


Awaken

by NeuroWriter14



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Dark Will Graham, Do not repost, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Kinda, M/M, Mind Palace Sex, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham is a Cannibal, actual sex, non-consensual cannibalism, tags to be updated as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 61,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeuroWriter14/pseuds/NeuroWriter14
Summary: Will Graham is the son of wealthy socialite Frances DuBois. Raised by his mother, he learned from a young age the darkest parts of himself and how and when to embrace them. Hannibal Lecter is a renowned psychiatrist and a darling of the Baltimore elite. He's known for his extravagant parties for the elite. One night, a newcomer to his party captures his attention. Both are serial killers.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 150
Kudos: 723





	1. Chapter 1

The limousine came to a halt. Will stretched, feeling the fabric of his suit shift around him before moving to open the door. His blue suit would likely stick out like a sore thumb at the party, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He stepped out into the cool, winter air, seeing the brownstone rise in front of him into the darkening sky. He examined it while buttoning his jacket and shifting his overcoat before turning to reach behind him, offering a hand to the other within the car. His mother pressed a gloved hand into his and he helped her from the limo, while the driver shut the door behind them. He held out his arm to allow her to loop her own through. Given the wealthy elite who were attending this party, he assumed the house would be more pretentious and that made him suspicious from the moment he laid eyes on it. Others had already entered the party, he could hear a faint hum of classical music and idle chatter echoing from the house. His mother tightened her grip on his arm and he looked over at her. 

He never knew what his father looked like, a one night fling had resulted in Will Graham. He did know his father's name, but he never had the inclination to look the man up and he died of cancer before Will ever could. He supposed, though, that he looked more like his mother than his father. Frances DuBois was a refined woman with long, dark curly hair and sky blue eyes. She had a sharp, fierce look about her at all times and a biting wit to accompany it. She had never married, not finding a man worth her time, but she would speak fondly of Will's father now and then. Over the years, her dark hair had gained hints of grey to it, peppered throughout. Tonight, she wore her dark hair pinned back, with pins the same silver as the long dress she adorned. Her hands were covered in white gloves with a silver bracelet on the one hooked through Will's arm and a sapphire ring on her left middle finger. She was covered in some expensive faux fur for a coat. She rolled her shoulders, making her dress dance in the evening light. 

Her eyes met his and a silent agreement passed between them. 

Will was often her date to the various parties hosted by the wealthy elite over the majority of the east coast. His mother had been a social butterfly for the majority of her life, first in France and again when she moved to America. Will had been attending parties such as this for as long as he could remember. He endured the parties when he was young, often finding a corner to hide in. As he grew older, he still hated the parties but found ways to entertain himself, normally finding some socially acceptable way for trouble until the two would leave. During these parties, he would also take the opportunity to people watch. It was easy for him to slip into the minds of others, though it was always easiest with sociopaths and psychopaths. Sometimes, however, he enjoyed seeing if he could slip into the minds of others. It was his own brand of fun to play on their expectations. However, this night, he had promised to be on his best behavior. 

Their host was another wealthy European, a count or so the rumor went. Will should not have been as surprised as he was to find that the title Count was still used but he shrugged it off as quickly as his mother had told him the rumor. 

The pair made their way up the walk toward the door. It opened before either could knock, likely hired staff making certain no one would wait on the steps too long. Both surrendered their coats before his mother looped her arm through his once more and they stepped into the dull roar of the party. 

Will acquainted himself with his surroundings, taking in the various decorations of the house as his mother pulled him through it, greeting others as she went. He would mutter a greeting, though he let her do most of the talking as they milled about. The house didn't give away on the outside what it gave away on the inside. In fact, the outside was rather dull compared to the decorations inside. Most of the guests had gathered in the foyer or the dining room, milling about in conversation. However, they had also managed to spill into the yard outside. Glass double doors from the dining room were open, partially blocking off an opening that seemingly led to the kitchen. The yard outside was just large enough to accommodate the crowd with a patio decorated with a variety of lights and incredibly fancy chairs donning the immaculate grass. Will noted the herb garden in the dining room as his mother pulled him through, along with a Leda and the Swan painting over the fireplace. There were small space heaters outside, keeping the guests warm in the chill of the night. The whole house set off a million alarms in Will's mind.

When his mother was between greetings, he took his chance to whisper in her ear. 

"This is the house of a serial killer," He whispered in French.

"Nonsense, darling." She whispered back, smiling at a man who passed them. "I know I haven't taken you home, but this is very much the style of the wealthy in Europe. I know I raised you to appreciate art." She sighed wistfully. "Someday I will take you to our home and you will see for yourself."

She greeted another and Will responded when they left. "Mother," Her eyes focused on him. "It's not the art."

She paused for a moment, pursing her lips. "You can tell." It wasn't a question but Will nodded anyway. "Like you?" Will raised an eyebrow in answer. She raised her free hand to press against his face gently. "Then we must meet our host."

She dropped her hand as another pair approached them. One Will knew immediately. Her sky-colored eyes were highlighted by her light blue dress. Her hair fell in a cascade down her shoulders and her smile was accentuated by her lipstick. 

"Mademoiselle," He greeted, grasping her hand and pressing it to his lips playfully. 

"Hello, Will."

Will had met Dr. Alana Bloom two years previously when they both had been asked to consult on a case. Will taught at the FBI Academy, a great way to keep an eye on the cases that came through Quantico, while also appearing normal. A man of his age living off his mother would raise suspicions, of course. Alana taught at Georgetown and had graciously covered his class a couple of times when his mother dragged him to some new event. The pair had never been alone in a room together, which he knew was done purposely. For a time, he had thought he might pursue a relationship with her, but that would be toying with fire. 

"Ms. DuBois." Alana greeted. She looked between them and Will could easily see the train of thought her mind was taking. It was amusing to him and rather than correct it just yet, he waited for Alana to ask. He had never run into Alana at any of the events his mother had attended, though it appeared the two had come across each other in the past. "How do you two know each other?"

His mother glanced at him, humor evident in her eyes. He debated toying around the subject to see what reaction he could elicit from Alana, but she hadn't greeted them alone. 

"This is my mother," He answered after a moment. He watched as Alana's brain attempted to catch up with his statement before turning to the man who accompanied her. Will was immediately caught in the amber eyes of the other man. The other man had a knowing looking as their eyes met, the pair examining each other. Will hated eye contact, he always had. Over the years, he forced himself to tolerate it, but he would never keep eye contact for long. Normally, he wore glasses as a kind of physical shield between his eyes and the eyes of others but he had neglected them tonight, allowing the other man to gaze into his eyes fully. His dark hair was neatly in place atop his head, peppered with almost unnoticeable strands of grey. He wore a dark, three-piece suit with crimson stripes over a pressed white shirt and a crimson paisley tie. "I'm afraid we've been terribly rude."

Alana shook herself, a smile returning to her face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you haven't met." 

His mother took her opportunity to introduce herself. Much as Will had done with Alana, the man took her free hand and pressed it to his lips in greeting. "Frances DuBois." She glanced over at Will, a gentle smile on her face. "As we have established, this is my son. Will Graham."

"Hannibal Lecter." He answered with a small smile. Will could hear the accent in his voice as he spoke. He had grown used to his mother's accent over the years, though his own didn't sound like hers. He had lost his accent in his adult life. The other man, Hannibal Lecter, hadn't though. Much like him, his mother too picked up on the accent. 

"Lithuanian?" She asked.

"Yes." The other man answered, switching effortlessly to French. "And I assume yours is French. Paris?"

His mother's smile widened. "Very good." She responded. As always when she thought about the home she left, her face became wistful for a moment before she returned to the conversation. "I assume you are our host tonight."

"I am indeed."

"You have a lovely house." She commented. "Thank you for inviting us tonight."

"The pleasure is all mine," The other man practically purred.

His mother glanced between Alana and Will before returning to English. "How do you two know each other?" 

"Through work," Will said lightly. His eyes met his mother's and again, a silent exchange passed between them. Alana didn't know who he was, didn't know anything about his upbringing or the life he lived outside of Quantico. It took a look to convey all of this to his mother before she looked away, smiling at Alana.

"Do you work for the FBI or are you a consultant like Will?"

"I consult. I teach psychiatry at Georgetown."

"Ah. _Doctor_ Alana Bloom then."

Alana's face flushed red for a moment before nodding. "Yes. Hannibal was my mentor at Johns Hopkins."

Will had felt the other man's eyes on him for the majority of the conversation, only moving away when Alana addressed him. Will took the opportunity to excuse himself, to remove himself from the heavy gaze of their host.

"Mother," He said politely, "Doctors. If you will excuse me, I'm going to track down something to drink." He slid his arm from his mother's. "A pleasure to meet you." He nodded to their host.

"The pleasure was mine," The other man hummed.

The moment he faded into the crowd, he felt himself shiver. Everything about Hannibal Lecter screamed serial killer. His posture, the knowing look in his eyes, his house, the lavish decorations. And what a serial killer he was. Most tended to live a solitary life avoiding connections and interactions with others. Some couldn't stand it, others thought it would make them less suspicious. His mother had been vehemently against him living a solitary life, encouraging him to be more social than he would like. But no one had looked his way for anything, so he obeyed his mother's advice. It seemed Hannibal Lecter followed a similar pattern, placing himself in the spotlight as a wealthy, eccentric socialite. No one would think to look his way for anything just as they wouldn't think to look Will's way. But it was only because of the monster under his skin that he knew what the other man was. And it was likely for that same reason that the good doctor knew what he was.

But what kind of monster was Hannibal Lecter?

Will managed to track down some champagne, resisting the urge to swallow a glass's worth quickly. He instead grabbed one for himself and another for his mother. He took a small breath, centering himself once more before returning to his mother. It was unlikely the other man would still be in conversation with so many other guests to attend to, a position Will did not envy but was grateful for. He suspected he might be locked in conversation with his mother and Alana until the dinner began, but he cared less about that than the lingering, dark gaze of their host. He turned, ready to brave the crowd to return to his mother to find another behind him. 

The other's keen, amber eyes were framed by his high, sharp cheekbones that Will was certain could cut glass. 

"You seemed tense, Will." The other stepped forward. "I wanted to make certain you were all right given your quick departure from the conversation."

Will plastered on his well-honed mask, offering a smile to his host. "I appreciate that, Doctor." He made a point of drawing out the title, making the other man's pupils narrow just slightly. "This party is fantastic." He stepped closer to drop his voice. "Killer, one might say." Will watched something flash in the other's eyes and he felt satisfaction hum in his gut. "If you will excuse me, I should hunt down my mother." He offered a small bow. "I assume I will see you again, Doctor Lecter."

Will rejoined his mother, offering her the champagne while she took his arm once more. She and Alana were locked in conversation about something that didn't pique Will's interest. Instead, he was focused on their host who expertly maneuvered from conversation to conversation, making every guest feel welcome in his home. He could see how some of the women, and even some of the men, preened under the doctor's attention as he made his way through the party. Even though the doctor's attention appeared to be on those in front of him, Will knew it was elsewhere just as his own attention was. Someone else caught Alana's attention and she excused herself with a promise to find Will and his mother again later in the night. He managed to tear his gaze away from the doctor and to his mother. 

"Like me," He whispered in French.

His mother sipped her champagne. "Does he know?"

"I believe he does."

"Is he a threat?" She smiled as the doctor glanced toward him once more, her face not betraying the words leaving her mouth.

"No. I don't believe he is."

She hummed slightly, tapping the glass in her hand. "You will kill him if he is." 

"Of course, Mother."

Their conversation was interrupted by the tapping of glass. "Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served." Their host's accented voice called over the party. 

What kind of witchcraft was employed to accommodate so many people, Will didn't know. But they were seated without feeling as though he was on top of the people on either side of him. To his right sat his mother and to his left Alana. To Alana's left was their host at the head of the table, waiting patiently for everyone to seat themselves. Idly, Will wondered if the name cards were moved before the start of dinner, but it only made him hum with smug satisfaction.

"I should warn you," The doctor's voice said into the now silent room, "Nothing here is vegetarian." 

Cheers echoed through the room before they began to move for the food. Will watched the man sit and place his napkin on his lap. Every movement was deliberate and careful, no doubt like his kills. Will watched as his eyes danced with amusement, listening to people hum about the quality of the food. The doctor was likely an intelligent psychopath, none of his kills would appear to be connected. He removed his own napkin from the table while he mentally went over a list of the killers he had seen before and recently. There had been a series of four murders the prior weekend and several murders before and after that. Will only consulted on the weird ones like the case that first brought him into consulting with the FBI; the Chesapeake Ripper. Will had met Alana on the Ripper case two years prior, both having been called in after the disappearance of FBI trainee Miriam Lass. The Ripper had gone silent after that, however, without any attempt to let the world know he was alive and about still. 

He raised his fork to his mouth, the expertly artful food resting on the tines. The moment he took a bite, however, he was immediately struck by a very specific flavor.

_Human._

The monster under Hannibal Lecter's skin was becoming more and more evident by the moment. 

"Darling," His mother said quietly, leaning over as she caught his attention. "Does this meat taste different to you?"

Will glanced at their host who was currently watching him over the rim of his wine glass. He leaned toward his mother, twisting his face from view. "It's long pig."

His mother looked down at the food as he took another bite. "Oh." Was all she said before she continued her meal and her conversation over the table. 

The dinner continued without much more fanfare until it was over. Will caught bits and pieces of conversation here and there, pretending to be more interested than he was. They were dismissed before dessert, which would not be served at the table. He watched as the hired staff began to move amongst them to clear the table while the others spread out once again and the conversation built back up to the dull roar it had before dinner. Will stood on the outskirts, watching as his mother flitted between conversations. After a moment, another joined him. 

"Did you enjoy dinner?" The accented voice asked into his ear. 

"I can honestly say I've not had a more enlightening meal in a while." He turned, facing the doctor hovering at his shoulder. The other didn't answer, obviously waiting for Will to continue. "There was much to consume during the meal."

"We often consume from others," The other said between sips of wine. "Ideas, body language, intentions."

 _Organs._ Will thought to himself as he took a sip of his wine. 

"Do you have these parties often, Doctor?"

"I had them more in the past, though I am tempted to continue them into the future."

"Is there a reason for your temptation, Doctor?" 

"Perhaps," The other's eyes drifted over him unabashedly. 

Will hummed. "Perhaps." He echoed before looking over the party. 

He watched as his mother began to drift through the crowd, likely having her fill of the party. 

"Doctor, it was a pleasure meeting you."

"And you, Will." Hannibal stepped closer, leaving only a little space between them. "I hope to see you again."

"Ready, darling?" His mother asked, coming to his side.

"Yes, Mother." He said with a smile though he was unable to remove his eyes from where they were locked with the other's.

"Thank you for having us, Dr. Lecter." The other turned to address his mother, reaching again for her hand and pressing it to his lips.

"Thank you for attending. I hope to see you both again." His eyes flitted back to Will's. "Ms. DuBois." He let out a slow breath. "Will."

"Doctor."


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal never had much interest in other killers. They were always the same, killing without real reason or for satisfaction. Most killers were carnal in their kills. It was that carnality that repulsed him. Yet it wasn't carnal instincts he sensed in Will Graham. That mind and those eyes saw too much, knew too much, were always alert. He imagined Will's mind must be something akin to a piece of coal that was slowly becoming a diamond. Everything pressed inward on it at all times and he would be unable to control it. Hannibal imaged the only time the other's mind was truly silent, was during a kill. And how intoxicating that must be. It was the only time his mind was quiet too. 

_You're smitten._ A voice whispered. And suddenly Hannibal was ten years old again. 

There were areas in his mind he tried to avoid at all costs for fear of the other memories they could dredge up. Yet sometimes, when he let his guard down, the memories would climb from their rooms and drag him back to them. Hannibal could see Mischa, young, bright Mischa, smiling at him over her book. Her eyes were the same color as his, amber tinted with red and were framed by high cheekbones. Her long, dirty blonde hair fell over her shoulders. Even though he couldn't see her whole face, he could see the smile in her eyes. 

"You're smitten with a man you just met," Mischa's voice echoed from behind pages. "Not that I blame you."

Hannibal stood from his place across from her and walked to the window, looking out over the grass and high towers. "Why don't you blame me?"

He could hear shuffling behind him and light footsteps before she joined him at the window. The castle wasn't fully that of Castle Lecter. It was pieced together, a collage of other buildings that were carefully melded together. From his position, he could see the outline of Norman Chapel. He could see the brownstone of his house in Baltimore and the roof of his office. He could see his boarding school in Paris and he knew somewhere behind him was the Medici House in Florence. But the oldest parts, the parts that made him who he was, were Castle Lecter and the various ghosts that haunted it. 

"I've never blamed you," Mischa said at his shoulder. "You blamed you."

A knock echoed around him and he opened his eyes. His office came into focus in front of him. He could see his crimson and grey curtains, the black leather chairs, his faux leather couch, and the white pillow that adorned it. He could see the crimson paint on his walls and the ladder that lead to the mezzanine where books were stacked neatly among their shelves. He set the pencil he was holding down, the drawing he was in the middle of all but forgotten. Reminiscing never did any good as the face on the page had begun to take shape of someone long gone. He readjusted the pencil next to his scalpel and stood from his chair, buttoning his suit jacket as he did. The doors in his mind clicked shut audibly and from there, the only noise he could hear was the soft sound of his footfalls on the carpet.

Patients came and went all the time from his office, sometimes showing up at late hours. He would stay late, enjoying the fire and drawing whatever came to his mind. Normally, he wasn't one to dwell on the past or even care much about the present. After the investigation into the Chesapeake Ripper diminished, there was little left for him to worry over. Miriam Lass was not an issue and the FBI had long since moved on from the presents he had left them. He wouldn't normally find his house or office suddenly much larger than they had any right to be. He wouldn't normally be climbing walls that were built on purpose. He normally wouldn't be searching.

He turned the nob to the door, opening it to the patient waiting room. He was very careful when it came to his patients, making certain there were entrances and exits so they never overlapped. He was careful to make certain there was no evidence that someone else had poured their heart out before the next came to do the same thing. Part of it was his own need for cleanliness, but another part of him knew it would be rude. And he was anything but rude. The nob clicked under his hand and the door opened. 

Will Graham was a fascinating man. He knew that from a total of three conversations and a few knowing looks. Hannibal loved beauty, he coveted it. He filled his mind with beautiful places, his home with beautiful art. But Will Graham was beautiful. He had dark, curly hair with a few curls purposely falling across his forehead. The first time Hannibal had met him, he wore a blue suit that accentuated his ocean colored eyes. Most people must think that he and his mother, who were quite similar, had the same eye color. But that wasn't true. Will's were darker, like most else about him. He stood tall, his shoulders taught, and his body tense. He knew Hannibal was behind him, there was no doubt in Hannibal's mind. But he was going to make him wait. Hannibal would be granted eye-contact on Will's time and not a moment sooner. He wore pressed, black pants and a neatly tucked in blue shirt. The clothes were form-fitting, perfectly accentuating his body. Again, something Hannibal was certain was planned. He was certain he would have to seek the other out when inevitably their paths crossed again. The world was small, and only continuing to shrink. Perhaps, there was something in Will that reached for him just as much as something within reached back.

"Hello, Will." He said.

The other turned slowly, eyes drifting over the waiting room as if it were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. His eyes jumped from pieces of furniture to art to the walls themselves. 

"Hello, Doctor," Will answered, first staring at the wall next to him and then finally meeting Hannibal's eyes. "May I come in?"

Hannibal stepped to one side, holding the door open so the other could walk through. Will took his time, making each step count and even pausing for a second in front of Hannibal. It was a dangerous game they were playing now, monsters dancing around monsters. They would tear each other apart. 

Will stepped further into the office, looking around with thinly veiled amusement. "Ostentatious."

"You don't sound disappointed." Hannibal let the door shut with a click. 

Will moved around the office, his every step still slow and deliberate. He was wearing the same mask he had when they first met, the facade of someone who knew much more than they let on. Will let his fingertips drag over the chair Hannibal normally sat it, over his desk, over the bookshelves. He walked closer to the fire, letting his hand trace over the mantle. Hannibal stepped further into the room, watching with amusement as Will explored. It felt like an invasion, as though someone had worked their way into that part of his mind and was gladly exploring everything that had been laid out for them. He was baring a piece of his soul and the other was hoarding it. 

"I have been asked to consult on a new case," Will's hand ran over the statue of a black stag, his fingers lingering on the antlers. "Eight missing girls. Same hair color, eye color, height, weight, age." Will continued through the room, his hand skimming the ladder to the mezzanine. "I have no doubt, you will be asked to consult as well." Will walked over to the windows, looking out at the view. "To build a profile."

"On this killer?" Hannibal asked, feigning boredom.

Will walked around the couch, nearing Hannibal. "On me."

The other moved closer, every step deliberate and careful as though he were afraid Hannibal would become skittish and run away.

"Would you like me to say no?"

Will was right next to him now. He was standing not directly in front of Hannibal, but rather so Will's right shoulder was directly in front of his left.

"I want you to say yes." Will's voice was no more than a whisper. "Dire oui, Docteur."

He blinked and Will was gone. He couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips. The game was just starting.

The next day, as he was escorting Franklyn from the office, Hannibal was met by another in the waiting room. He could tell immediately that the other individual was law enforcement. This was confirmed only seconds later by the presence of a badge. He escorted Franklyn from the room and told the other, Jack Crawford, to wait for a moment while he tidied his office. He debated how long he should let the other wait but he decided against letting it be too long. Hannibal opened the door and invited him in. 

Jack was amicable, though Hannibal could tell he was used to commanding his space. He almost thought it amusing that Jack tried to prop up his ego with a comment on one of the papers he had written. There were many things he could tell about the other right away. He had similarities with a brick wall, unshakeable and unmovable unless he wanted it that way. He had a personality similar to a dog in that once a thought was in his head, it would be impossible to force him to let it go. And currently, his thoughts were about building a profile. Hannibal could see that Jack thought of Will in a few ways, as both a friend but also as an object, maybe a teacup, that could easily break. Whatever persona Will had shown the other man, he thought Will unsteady and easily broken. How magnificent.

Hannibal met this new version of Will Graham the next day. This wasn't the same, level headed man who had strolled around his office. This wasn't even the reserved, tamed man that he had first met at his party. This Will wouldn't meet his eyes. This Will huffed more. This Will avoided eye contact like it was the plague. This Will was a carefully honed mask that had Hannibal wondering which of the three was the real one if any. 

"Eyes are distracting," Will said as he began slowly turning toward him. "You see too much. You don't see enough. And it's difficult to concentrate when you're thinking things like, 'Oh those whites are really white' or 'he must have hepatitis' or 'is that a burst vein?' So yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible." Will's ocean eyes flashed and Hannibal was certain that if Jack Crawford hadn't taken his seat directly across from them, the other would have winked.

Hannibal couldn't suppress the smile that had worked its way to his lips. Will stormed from the room rather dramatically and he departed with less fanfare a few moments later. He had a plan in mind, a gift he would give. And who he was giving it to was standing a few doors down from Jack's office, casually leaning against the wall.

Will fell in step with him easily as the worked their way through the building. He knew before the other said anything that they would be parting ways when they came to a stop. He turned to face him, their bodies angled toward each other. Will slid his hands into his pockets, his eyes focused on Hannibal's. Will had abandoned the glasses somewhere between Jack's office and their current stopping point. People filtered around them as if they were rocks in a river. He knew the other wasn't lying when he stated he hated eye contact, and yet here he was, eyes boring holes through Hannibal's head.

Will raised an eyebrow, an unspoken question between them.

"Magnifique."


	3. Chapter 3

Will should not have been surprised to open his door to find Hannibal Lecter on the other side. Of course, he would show up first thing in the morning. It appeared Hannibal Lecter's idea of dressing down was not dressing down at all. It was odd given they would be visiting construction sites for the day. How someone had never figured this man for a serial killer, Will didn't know. Maybe everyone was blind, or maybe he saw too much. He was acutely aware of his own attire, or lack thereof, as he answered the motel door. He wore only a white t-shirt and grey briefs which were met with an appraising, yet appreciative, look. 

"Where's Jack?" Will asked, leaning against the door.

"Deposed in court," Hannibal answered, his voice not revealing his pleasure the way his eyes did. "The adventure will be yours and mine today."

Will hummed in response, not bothering to move.

"May I come in?"

He felt his lips twitch. _A polite cannibal._ "I'm not certain I should let you in, Doctor. You look like you might eat me alive."

Hannibal's eyes flashed and Will let the smile cross his lips. He stepped aside so the other could enter. He didn't bother dressing himself and instead, moved to open the curtains. The other placed his bag on the table and began removing containers from its depths. While the other settled himself, he moved through the motel room, grabbing plates, forks, and cups from the kitchenette. His mother would disapprove of him spending the night in such a shabby place, but he thought it had charm. And it was quite enjoyable to see how out of place Hannibal looked sitting at the barebones table. He settled himself into the chair opposite the other, who opened one of the containers and pushed it toward Will. 

"A protein scramble to start the day." He pointed at the dish. "Eggs. Some sausage."

Will knew what it would be before he even took a bite of the sausage. 

_Human._

The day before there had been another murder of a girl fitting the same description of the eight other girls. The same brown hair, wind chaffed skin, weight, height. However, with the exception of Elise Nichols, there was nothing left of the girls. The only reason Elise had been found was because she had liver cancer. The killer used everything from his victims, even to the point of eating them to honor them. The meat from the last girl was no good. Cassie Boyle, however, was found mounted on antlers, her lungs removed while she was still breathing. Will had been certain from the moment he saw the body that it didn't belong to the Minnesota Shrike, as he was called. This was another killer. Given his current dining partner and the human meat in the protein scramble, he could guess who her killer was. He could easily slip some of the meat away and leave it for Jack Crawford to find. It was ironic to him that he was actively working with a cannibal to hunt another cannibal.

Though perhaps it shouldn't have been that ironic. Will had a diverse palate as well.

Hannibal watched as he emptied the container onto the plate in front of him. He set the container aside and took another bite of the meal. 

"Is it to your taste?"

Will avoided the urge to smile again and instead focused on pouring himself some of the likely high-end coffee Hannibal had brought with him. He took a sip, watching the other over the rim of the mug before lowering it.

"Self-conscious about your cooking, Doctor?"

Hannibal's lips twitched. "No."

He picked up another bite of sausage, his eyes glued to Hannibal's as he ate. The other watched every movement, even the bob of his throat as he swallowed. He could see a million paths in front of him and all were dangerous. He could easily keep up the game he and the good doctor started, dancing around what they both knew but neither saying as much. Or he could remove himself from the game, play no part, and watch how Hannibal reacted. Or he could point Jack Crawford in the right direction. A comment here, a slip of food there, and suddenly Hannibal Lecter was behind bars where he would be less of a threat. And Hannibal Lecter was a threat. He never let anyone see him except for his mother. She was the first to see him, truly see what he was, and yet she never shied away. She had helped him cultivate it, control it, and let it out when he wanted and not a moment sooner. His carefully honed masks, the unstable FBI consultant, the aloof son of a wealthy socialite, even the careful, reserved persona; were all crafted under his mother's guidance. But Hannibal could see the minute cracks in the masks. Will knew he could. It was as terrifying as it was exciting. Just as he could reveal the other, Hannibal could reveal him for what he was. 

_Is he a threat?_

_No. I don't believe he is._

_You will kill him if he is._

He should kill Hannibal, leave a trail that led to him returning to Lithuania, and never think of the other again. He should listen to his mother, who had yet to be wrong, and be rid of the threat for good. 

And Hannibal should kill him. He was as much a threat to Hannibal as Hannibal was to him. 

Yet here they were, eating breakfast with Will in his underwear. Because just as he was hesitant to kill Hannibal, Hannibal was hesitant to kill him. Because something, something annoyingly human, was forming between them. The prospect of being seen, truly seen.

He finally set down his coffee and returned to the meal. "It's delicious." His eyes flicked up to the other's. "Thank you."

Hannibal returned to his meal, the pair eating in silence.

"Tell me, Doctor," He said after a moment, "How did a doctor with an MD in emergency surgery and a Ph.D. in psychiatry become such a good cook?"

Hannibal's face twitched almost imperceptibly and Will suddenly wanted to know more. Whatever came out of the doctor's mouth wouldn't be the truth. Oh, it would have truth peppered in it, enough to make it believable, but it wouldn't be the real reason.

"I've enjoyed cooking since I was a young man."

 _Is that how long you've been a cannibal?_

"You originally worked for the New Orleans Police Department." The other's eyes flicked to his and Will saw the message in their depths and the words that accompanied them.

_Two can play at that game._

"Isn't it amazing what one can find on the internet?"

"It wasn't the internet." Hannibal took another bite, chewing it slowly while keeping eye contact with Will. "Jack gave me a file on you."

He wanted to roll his eyes. "How gossipy of him."

"Not just him."

Will smirked then. Hannibal was correct, of course. Will hadn't bothered to look into the other man. A well-placed statement here and a playful smile there and people would spill their guts to him. It took very little to coax one of his mother's wealthy friends, who was also friends with Hannibal, to tell him some of the wild skepticism that abounded in his social circles. Everything was left to speculation. Most thought there was a deliciously tragic secret in the doctor's past and everyone had their hand in crafting the pseudo-backstory for Hannibal Lecter. Perhaps he had a great love affair that tore him apart. Perhaps his family was tragically murdered in front of him. Perhaps he was running from something terrible. He earned an internship at Johns Hopkins where he studied to become a surgeon. There was speculation as to what tragedy occurred for the man to reevaluated his career. From there he became a renowned psychiatrist and it was then that he met Alana Bloom. Speculation ran rampant about an inappropriate love affair between mentor and mentee before both went their separate ways, though they stayed friends.

But that wasn't the past he was interested in, though it was interesting, certainly, to see the public persona that the other crafted. But he didn't want the public persona, he wanted the real Hannibal. The one who lurked in the dark recesses of his amber eyes, the one who watched everything and absorbed it with a keen mind, the one who could see everything, the one who glimpsed the dark within him and returned still. He did not doubt that his curiosity was mirrored in the other. 

How much of him was mirrored in the other, he still wasn't certain. 

They finished their breakfast in silence. 

Will moved to clean up, setting the plates in the sink and then turning to face the other.

"Unless you plan on staying for a show, I'm not certain you would want to wait in here while I ready myself."

"Are you offering a show, Will?"

He raised an eyebrow in response, leaning against the counter behind him. "Would you watch if I did?"

"Would you want me to?"

"You didn't answer my question."

Hannibal stood, buttoning his suit and flattening it with a swift movement. "Neither did you." He gathered the containers and poured another cup of coffee for Will before placing that too in the bag he brought with him. "I'll see you when you're ready."

Will watched him leave before calling, "I'm driving!" as Hannibal shut the door.

* * *

He would think about the rest of the day for weeks to come. He would look back on it with a combination of endearment and frustration. The next day, the first thing he did was call his mother. 

"Mother," He greeted.

"What's wrong?" She asked immediately, hearing the tension in his voice.

"I'm going to kill Hannibal Lecter."

But he didn't know that as he left his motel room. He didn't know that as he once again greeted the doctor. He didn't know that as they drove to the first construction site of the day, Hannibal watching him while pretending to watch the scenery. He should have killed Hannibal the night they met. He should have killed him that morning in the motel room. He should have killed him on the way to the construction site. 

But he didn't.

They arrived at the first construction site of the day. Given forensic evidence found on the body, there were only a few sites to visit in the first place, which he was grateful for. He had more interesting things on his mind like the face he felt like he was a mouse searching a maze for the cheese with his companion as the watchful scientist. On the way, the other had noted curiosity at how the FBI conducted their work. And unfortunately, this was the way the FBI conducted their job. Grunt work done by trekking from place to place in the cool November air of Minnesota. But what Hannibal truly meant was how Will did his work. There was some overlap, he would concede as much, but this wasn't something Will would work on in his own time. He avoided taking cases from the FBI. It would only lead to him once the pattern was noted. He was too careful for that. Though, just as with everything else, he was also curious about how Hannibal did his work. 

The secretary at the construction site was almost the exact opposite of helpful. He watched something flash in Hannibal's eyes before the pair of them delved into the various files. It was all generic. The same information over and over again. Until it wasn't. Killers tended to be careful, covering their tracks and never leaving too much for anyone to find unless they knew what to look for. But this was too little. And immediately something in Will's brain screamed it was wrong. Wrong. All wrong. The secretary, as before, was no help while Hannibal tried to follow his train of thought as to why he honed in on this particular name. In truth, he didn't quite know. It was a pure hunch, but it made the darkest parts of him stir. It demanded he pay attention, to note that which others missed. Serial killers, at least the best, were the chameleons of society. Never show too much, never show too little. This was too little. 

His mind went blank with only one thought bouncing around in its depths.

Garret Jacob Hobbs. Garret Jacob Hobbs. Garret Jacob Hobbs. Garret Jacob Hobbs. Garret Jacob-

He barely stepped from the car when the Hobbs household exploded. His first glimpse of the man was when he pushed his wife from the house. She was fodder to him. And she was dead before she ever died. Will could see it the moment he approached her as she gasped on the concrete porch. Her shirt was already drenched with blood from an expert slice across her throat. Her jugular was sliced clean through, arterial spurting coating the concrete crimson. Her body shuddered, her brain instinctively fighting to live. But it was useless. With her jugular sliced, her brain would be deprived of oxygen long before an ambulance could ever arrive. She was dead. But Hobbs's daughter still had a chance. Will had given Jack a metaphor for what Hobbs's daughter would mean to him, his golden ticket. He killed others to avoid killing her, but he knew he was going to die. He would have her before he went.

Will didn't prefer guns. He was too physical for them. But here, he was in foreign territory with a killer in front of him and another stalking him into the house. He moved through the house expertly, his days in the New Orleans Police Department having served him well in many aspects. He had initially joined to understand how their investigations went, and how best to avoid himself being on the other end of one. But beyond that, he was an expert at familiarizing himself with an area after having done the very same thing in his job previously.

He could hear whimpering ahead of him, likely the sound of Hobbs's daughter held at knifepoint after just having watched her mother's throat slit.

He hated being right.

"Put the knife down," He warned. 

It was strange what happened when he could sense this particular situation coming for him. His heart never sped, instead it slowed. Everything slowed. He was acutely aware of his surroundings. A pin could drop and he would know exactly where it was. His breathing was even, his body was taut. He was coiled like a snake, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

There was nothing inherently revealing about Hobbs from the first glance. If he had been someone else, he might never have thought the man capable of murder. But he wasn't someone else and he was looking down a gun. His daughter squirmed in his grasp, whimpering with an attempt to run. Hobbs had a knife to her throat. He would try to slice her throat like he did her mother. But she wouldn't die today. Will saw the moment his muscles twitched, ready to pull the knife across her throat and take her with him. 

He was faster.

The gunshot echoed through the house and Hobbs's body fell backward. Will was an excellent shot, he always had been. The bullet had made its way directly through his forehead and skull and into his brain, killing him instantly. Blood and brain scattered the wooden cabinets behind him as his daughter surged forward and into Will's arms. 

She shook, a small cut on her throat trickling blood onto the collar of her shirt. He put the safety back on his gun and set it aside, wrapping the shaking girl in his arms. Her hand fisted in the sleeve of his sweater and she buried her face in his shoulder.

"He tried to kill me." She whispered. "He tried to kill me."

"You're all right," Will reassured. "You're alive. You're all right."

She continued to cling to him, shock making her shake in his arms, as he looked over her head at Hannibal. He had forgotten, for a split second, that he was being stalked as much as he was the one doing the stalking. The other was incredibly calm and to anyone else, would look withdrawn and somber. He should be, given the two deaths and the near-death of the girl in Will's arms. But instead, he could see a flash of satisfaction in his eyes and an appreciative turn of his lips.

Goddamned Hannibal Lecter. 


	4. Chapter 4

Will sat stiffly in the hospital chair. Nurses and doctors, and one very terrified looking scribe, came and went from the room. They examined the small cut on Abigail's neck, went through a full physical exam, and even brought her some food. Will had offered to step from the room, to leave her alone and let her be examined without him there to eavesdrop, but she insisted that he stay. Her bright blue eyes looked up into his and he knew he would be the worst person on the planet if he left her in the room by herself. The bleeding on her neck wasn't profuse, it was unlikely she would even need stitches. Will had been faster than her father and a result, she was left relatively unharmed. Physically anyway. Mentally, however, Will had no idea how much damage could potentially have been done.

Abigail, for her part, seemed to take everything in stride. When she wasn't talking to a doctor or nurse, she stared at the bed and the white, scratchy blanket they had given her. The shock seemed to have worn off as she was shaking less than when she launched herself into Will's arms, but nevertheless, she still shivered. Likely from the cold. He was sitting in one of the barebones chairs next to the bed where she insisted he stay. He expected that she would have screamed at him to leave by now. He had murdered her father, after all. Why did she want him to stay?

Will took the opportunity to evaluate the girl more. She was likely 18 or 19, just about to start college. He assumed that part of the reason Garret Jacob Hobbs killed as often as he did was because she would be leaving soon. The bird would leave the nest and he couldn't fully handle that. And now Abigail could never truly go home. Home was the place her mother had died in front of her. Home was where Will had shot her father. Home was where she nearly died. She would likely be remanded to a psych hospital for the time being until she underwent extensive treatment for her whole ordeal. She was a pretty girl, plain but pretty. Like the rest, she had long brown hair, wind chafed skin, and was about the same height and weight. But there was something else about her, something that Will couldn't quite put his finger on. Maybe it was the same thing he had about himself and Hannibal had about him. Maybe there was some darkness behind those bright blue eyes.

Will assumed he should feel some way or another after shooting a man in the head. But he didn't. He didn't feel anything about his murder of Garret Jacob Hobbs. Instead, he could feel anger and something akin to amusement twisting in his gut. There was a moment, between when Will had spotted the name and the time they arrived at the Hobbs house, that Hannibal was left alone inside the trailer that doubled as the construction site office. It must have been in that time that Hannibal called the Hobbs house, warning Abigail's father of their impending arrival. Hobbs panicked and as a result, killed his wife as a distraction. He would have taken Abigail too and then maybe himself if Will hadn't interfered. But between Hannibal and Will, Abigail Hobbs was now an orphan. He wasn't certain how he felt about that. 

He hated hospitals. Always had. There were too many sights, smells, and bright, unforgiving lights. There were always people coming in and out of rooms, always questions to be answered and things to do. He was glad he never once considered a medical profession. He would have gone insane by now.

Next to him sat Hannibal, who had stayed mostly because Will was the one who drove them. They hadn't bothered waiting for an ambulance. Will called in the murders of Abigail's parents and then drove the three of them to the hospital. 

Jack would likely wiggle his way from court to meet them there as he had left the man a message. But even this murder could wait. There would be no more from this particular murderer today. 

Hannibal looked incredibly calm and relaxed given what he had done earlier. And perhaps Will shouldn't be surprised. If he had to guess at the man's motives, it was likely pure curiosity. Which was a maddening reason in and of itself. Of course, he was curious. He wanted to see what Will would do. He wanted to see what Garret Jacob Hobbs would do. And now they were sitting with the orphan of his interference. He wasn't sure if he should congratulate Hannibal on his successful experiment or yell at the man for the situation his curiosity had brewed. The only thing he knew was that he now felt a growing sense of responsibility for the girl sitting on the bed in front of them. 

"I don't know how I'm going to pay for this?" Abigail muttered. "Do you think they'll take my dead parents' insurance?"

"Don't worry about it," Will answered immediately. 

Her eyes shot to his. He did his best to hold her gaze. "You don't have to-" She cut herself off. "I don't want to-"

"I said don't worry about it." He stood and brushed his sweater down. "I have to make a call, but I'll be back." He paused, meeting her eyes. "If you want."

She nodded and Will could see tears beginning to form. He nodded his agreement and grasped his phone. 

"Come with me," He demanded, barely looking at Hannibal.

He could see amusement in the other's eyes as he followed Will from the room. Before the door could close fully, he stopped it and peaked back in. "If they come by asking for your insurance ask them if they would wait a minute."

He wouldn't exactly say he stormed from the emergency room, but he was walking rather briskly with Hannibal in tow. Hannibal's jacket was folded over his arm and he put it on with ease as they ventured through the triage and then the waiting room. The cold, Minnesota air sunk into his cheeks the moment he stepped outside and the heat from the many emotions swirling within him seemed to dissolve into the air. He looked at his phone in his hand and then back to Hannibal. The other nodded and Will called his insurance. He was lucky he had money and it was because he had money that his insurance was never a hassle when he called. It was all too easy to add another onto his insurance with the promise of giving them the other necessary information. 

He was on the call a grand total of ten minutes before he hung up and turned back to Hannibal.

"Satisfied?" He asked as he shoved his phone in his pocket.

"Thoroughly." 

"Is that what you were expecting?"

"I wasn't certain what I was expecting, but I am not disappointed with the result."

"We orphaned her." He jutted his head toward the hospital.

"And both of us will be here to pick up the pieces of the mess we made."

Will wanted to react like a petulant child. But instead, he narrowed his eyes at Hannibal. "We're her fathers now?"

Hannibal didn't answer and that was enough of an answer for Will. It was unlikely Hannibal had planned on walking away this day with a surrogate daughter, and yet here they were. Will sighed and walked back into the hospital feeling Hannibal walk in step with him. He should be angry, or well angrier. Instead, he was oddly satisfied with the outcome of the day. Like Hannibal, he hadn't expected to walk away with a surrogate daughter, but he wasn't about to abandon her. And while he would kill, he wouldn't kill to stop himself from killing her. Abigail deserved better than that. Maybe he should feel bad for Abigail. He saved her from one killer only to deliver her into the arms of two others. But if he was right, as he often was, she wasn't entirely innocent herself. But he wouldn't press that. She had been through enough without him asking the question on his mind. 

She gave a half-hearted smile as they returned. The pair had barely sat down when the doctor returned. 

"Well," She folded her hands in front of her. "It doesn't seem like that cut is particularly bad. I'll have one of the nurses clean and bandage that." She smiled. "I would recommend you staying for a psych eval or giving you a recommendation to a psychiatric facility."

Abigail stared at the bed in front of her as though it could give her answers. But there was nothing written in the lines of the blanket. 

"There are good facilities for both in and outpatient facilities in Virginia and Maryland," Hannibal said after a moment. "I am a psychiatrist in Baltimore. We can find one to help you. Will and I have a mutual acquaintance that would be a good fit."

_Alana._

"And Will and I will be close if you need either of us."

"I don't have anywhere to go," Abigail whispered. She looked up first at Hannibal and then at Will. He hoped the message he was conveying with his eyes said enough. She would have a place to go. She had at least three options before her. Eventually, she nodded.

"Splendid." The doctor said. "I'll send the nurse here in a moment."

Will waited for the door to close. "Unfortunately there is more." Abigail blinked at him. "You'll be asked to give a statement regarding what happened. Just as both Hannibal and I will. It might be easier if you were already close to Quantico."

"What will happen to me after this?" She asked, her fingers moving nervously in the blanket. "I still have to finish high school. I'm supposed to be starting college in the fall."

"It's all still possible," Will reassured. "I'm sure the school will understand you taking off for a few days. Do you have what you need to do your assignments?"

"I could probably ask my teachers to email them."

"Good," Will absently ran his thumb over his jaw. "If you do choose to go to Virginia or Maryland, we can help you transfer. Or homeschool even if that's what you would like." He leaned forward, bracing himself on his knees. "But Abigail," She blinked at him. "It is your choice."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She asked.

"Would you prefer I be an asshole?" Will asked bluntly. "I can be an asshole."

She smiled then. A genuine smile. "No," She laughed quietly. "I wouldn't prefer that." She pulled at the blanket again.

The three of them were silent for the rest of the small hospital stay as Abigail's wound was cleaned and bandaged. Will gave the hospital his insurance and eventually they were on their way in a silent car. He could see Abigail staring stoically out the window until she suddenly straightened up and patted at her pockets. He could see the flash of a phone in the rearview mirror and a sudden, content sigh echoed from the backseat. She patted again and Will watched her extract headphones from her pocket the cord already tangled. He felt a small smile pull at his lips. 

"We can stop by a store to find you a charger," Will said and was answered by a small smile in the rearview mirror. 

It was easy to acquire a room for Abigail at the same motel Will was staying at. She bid Hannibal and Will goodbye before shutting herself in her room. Will stared at the door for a moment. His room was right next door but he found a strange sense of worry for the girl he had known less than a few hours. Hannibal on the other hand-

Will turned back to him, only to see the end of whatever emotion had been on his face. 

"Join me for dinner, Will." It wasn't a question.

"We probably shouldn't just leave her."

"I'll bring it to you."

"Of course, you will." Hannibal's lips twitched. "You know where I am."

The rest of the day passed quickly and before Will knew it, it was the next day. Everything came back to him all at once. He remembered Hannibal and his scheming. He remembered the girl he had orphaned and was currently asleep next door. He remembered the series of lingering glances over dinner, even if Hannibal thought Will didn't notice them. And Will couldn't help his own glances, watching the killer across the table as they ate. He would be lying if he said he wasn't fascinated by the beautiful murderer across from him.

The sun was only just peeking over the horizon but he knew his mother would already be awake. He grabbed his phone from the charger and scrolled to find his mother's number.

"Mother," He greeted as she answered.

"What's wrong?" She asked immediately, hearing the tension in his voice.

"I'm going to kill Hannibal Lecter."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know all those interactions in the ladder half of season 2 where Will and Hannibal are basically having sex but only with their eyes? Picture that.

Hannibal pulled up to the motel to find Will standing outside. He was dressed in only a pair of jeans, a grey t-shirt, and a jacket. He recognized the t-shirt as the one Will had answered the door in the day before, likely the one he wore to sleep. Will's eyes shot to his as he shut off his car, standing from it. The other held his phone pressed to his ear and his lips pursed as he looked over at Hannibal. Hannibal pulled his bag from the car, containing the meals he and Will, and perhaps Abigail, would be eating for their breakfast. The three were set to leave that day, and Hannibal already had his bags packed for the plane ride to his familiar city. Will, on the other hand, looked as if he had just rolled out of bed, and he might have. It was still early, the sun only just peeking over the horizon. Will's dark, curly hair was set alight by the morning sun. It was untamed, as though Will had only tried to push it down rather than his usual attempts to tame it. Hannibal rather enjoyed the wild look it gave him. That, coupled with the t-shirt and critical look in his eyes, gave him a wild, dangerous look. And Hannibal was more than excited that the look was aimed at him.

He locked the car and walked closer to where Will stood in the cool, Minnesota morning air. 

"No, Mother," He heard Will say as he neared. "You heard what I said."

He couldn't hear the other half of the conversation but he did see as Will turned his head slightly, his ocean-colored eyes meeting Hannibal's.

"I'm going to kill Hannibal Lecter." He said into the phone, but his eyes were completely focused on Hannibal. "I have to go, Mother. I have company." 

He hung up the phone without looking away from Hannibal. 

Hannibal walked closer, feeling excitement and curiosity duel within his mind. "Perhaps you would like breakfast before you kill me."

Will followed him to the hotel room. He could feel the other's eyes on him during the small walk until they reached the door. Will walked up behind him, until Hannibal's back was almost touching his chest and Hannibal could feel the heat of his breath on the back of his neck. He reached around him and unlocked the door, opening it for Hannibal to enter and he followed, shutting and locking it with a loud click. 

They were in the dark.

He had never been around a predator as dangerous as him, knowing that at any second Will could pounce from the shadows. But he wouldn't. Even with Will's blatant declaration of murder, Hannibal was in no more danger than he had been the previous morning. But it was exciting to hear the floor creek under Will's footsteps. He turned, facing the door once again. There was only a small amount of light entering the room from the curtains that had yet to be opened. But Hannibal couldn't see anything, he was as blind as Will was. Two hunters circling in the dark. Will stepped closer and it was by scent alone that Hannibal knew how far he was. He took another step and Hannibal idly wondered if Will would run into him. 

He could feel the other's breath on his face, feel the heat from his body. Either one could kill the other, depending on which moved faster. Hannibal could kill Will and Will could kill Hannibal. They were within arm's length of each other. It would be a test of speed and then riding themselves of the evidence. 

He knew Will felt him just as well as if they were a part of the same being. And god it was exhilarating. He could feel Will's piercing gaze in the dark, the look that knew too much and was far too deadly to be left alive. Will was a threat and the most dangerous one at that. Not Jack Crawford. Not another killer. Not the FBI. It was Will. Will, the predator stalking him in the dark, was the most dangerous threat. Because Hannibal knew he would let his guard down for him. And Will's ease at cementing his place in Hannibal's mind was what made him so dangerous.

Will took another step forward and he was certain that it would take a small lean forward to press their bodies together. Will exhaled, his breath ghosting across Hannibal's cheek.

Neither said anything. It almost felt like speaking was sacrilegious. He heard Will shift and saw the vague outline of his shoulders become more prominent. There was the sound of a jacket haphazardly discarded, neither moving away from the other. For a brief second, their fingers brushed as Will took the bag from his hand. Hannibal also discarded his jacket, with much more grace than Will had. They stayed there for another moment. He could practically feel the other's heart in his chest. How easily could he rip it out?

"You said you were going to kill me," He whispered, knowing the other could hear it. "How would you do it?"

He felt Will lean forward, the heat of his body setting him on fire. "With my hands," He whispered in his ear. Hannibal suppressed a smirk.

And then Will stepped away.

He walked to the window, throwing open the curtains and breaking the spell that had fallen over the room. 

"What's for breakfast?" He asked, easily slipping into French. 

Hannibal blinked, his eyes focusing with intensity on Will. The French was deliberate. He suspected, given Will's mother, that he was raised with equal amounts of English and French. He mostly spoke in English but would slip into French deliberately. It was a seduction, as much as his threat of murder. Hannibal walked forward, keeping his eyes glued to Will's. 

"Never ask. It spoils the surprise."

Will smirked. 

It was only then that Hannibal looked away, making certain he didn't spill anything as he pulled the containers from the bag. He set one in front of Will and one in front of himself. He removed the coffee as Will walked over to the cabinets as he had done the previous morning and grabbed the coffee cups. The other walked back to the table, moving almost too close to Hannibal again as he set the cup in front of him before retreating to his side of the table. Both sat, neither needing to speak as they began breakfast. It wasn't much different than the prior day, with a few onions and peppers mixed into the eggs. 

Will's eyes flitted to his as he took a bite which happened to include the sausage. 

"You seem rather attentive to my eating habits, Doctor."

It was Hannibal's turn to smirk. "I would apologize," He paused and the other's lips twitched. "However I will not apologize for curiosity."

"And what is the source of your current curiosity, Dr. Lecter?"

Hannibal took a bite of his own meal and it was Will's turn to watch. Round and round they went.

"You." Hannibal took another bite. "And yours?"

"Tu, Docteur."

* * *

"I see Hannibal Lecter is not dead."

Will slid into the car next to his mother, having already deposited his luggage in the trunk.

"I could have found my own way home, Mother."

"In the lap of Hannibal Lecter, no doubt." Will smirked. "I heard you killed someone." He sighed. "Does this have anything to do with your desire to murder the doctor. And if so, why is he still alive?"

Will looked out the window as the car began to move, leaving the airport. His mother expected him to attend another dinner at another lavish household and given his role as her date, it was easier for him to travel to her house in Baltimore rather than to his house in Wolf Trap, Virginia first only to drive back to Baltimore. Naturally, however, it meant he had been seated next to Hannibal during their flight. Abigail had been on a later flight where she would be met at the airport by Alana Bloom.

"He called the suspect. He warned him we were on our way." He furrowed his brows at the window, feeling an odd sense of endearment accompany his frustration. "By the time we arrived, the man killed his wife and tried to kill his daughter. I shot him in the head."

"Why?"

He turned to look at his mother. She was dressed rather nicely for a venture to the airport. She wore straight black pants and a flowy white shirt, decorated in black flowers. Her hair was braided and pulled up on one side of her head. Her sky blue eyes met his evenly.

"He was curious what would happen."

"And the girl?"

"Alive. Meeting Alana at the airport. She'll be in a psychiatric facility undergoing treatment for the time being."

His mother hummed. "And my earlier question."

"He is alive for the same reason I am." His mother raised an eyebrow. "Because I like him that way."

"This is a dangerous game, darling."

"I know." 

The rest of their drive was silent. Will stretched as he stepped from the car, grateful to no longer be in a cramped space. Even with the extra legroom provided by first class, it wasn't exactly fit for someone as tall as him. He preferred to drive if given the chance. At least that allowed him to stop and stretch if he wanted to. He couldn't imagine it was much better for Hannibal, who was not that much taller than he. There was only likely an inch between them. Yet, as with everything, Hannibal took in stride. He had spent the majority of the flight reading while Will had settled into the seat. He would have fallen asleep if it were anyone but Hannibal next to him, but at least the act of closing his eyes was enough to feel some type of rested when they landed. 

He left his mother in a rush, happy to finally have a shower. Given his guest in the morning, he had barely taken any time to ready himself, only slipping into the bathroom to make a small attempt to clean himself and dress. He had followed Hannibal to the airport with Abigail in the passenger seat. She was just as reserved as she had been the day before, but she joined them for a small snack before Hannibal and Will had to leave. If the other was surprised that he and Will were returning on the same flight, he said nothing.

He had given Abigail his phone number and by the time he stepped out of his shower, towel around his waist and wet hair dripping on his shoulders, he received a text telling him she had arrived. 

He finished readying himself. When he was finished, he evaluated himself in the mirror. He was bound to stand out in the outfit he wore, but he doubted he would have any entertainment outside of the looks at his attire. His shirt was the inverse of his mother's earlier shirt — black with white flowers and grey leaves— accompanied by his suit pants and jacket. He slipped on his shoes and packed his luggage once again. 

He practically trotted down the stairs to where his mother was waiting, adjusting her hair slightly. She glanced at him in the mirror she was looking at, a small but exasperated smile flashing across her lips. She seemed to be keeping with the floral theme for the day, picking a white dress decorated with light blue flowers. Her gloves were also white with her normal, sapphire ring on one hand. They stepped outside as the limo came to a stop in front of her house.

House would likely be a strong word. Her Baltimore residence was more along the lines of a small mansion with three stories and a basement. Will had grown up moving back and forth between her residences in Baltimore, Ocean City, Richmond, Philadelphia, and New Orleans. And then, of course, they had traveled the majority of the east coast for various parties and festivities. Will had gone wherever his mother went. He graduated high school with honors and few friends only to enter university. He earned his degree in criminal psychology summa cum laude before entering the New Orleans Police Department. His mother also spent most of her time in New Orleans while he was in the police department before he was stabbed while on the job. The two had then moved further east. Will bought his house in Wolf Trap, a rather modest house compared to the mansions he grew up in, and had collected a few strays here and there.

The car stopped outside the Verger's Maryland residence. 

The Verger estate, where the heir to the Verger Slaughterhouses and his sister lived, was in North Carolina, but they had a residence in Maryland which they sometimes occupied for parties. Will was not at all fond of Mason Verger. He was though, fond of his sister, Margot. She would be the one welcome sight of the night. Mason, however, always found his way to Will's last nerve. It was only Margot's dependence on him that prevented Will from killing him, or he would have by now. 

He stood from the car, feeling a rush of déjà vu before extending his hand to his mother. Mason irked his mother as much as he irked Will. Neither was particularly happy to be attending the party, but his mother was expected and therefore he was expected. 

"I suppose tonight's meal will truly be pig," His mother said as she straightened her jacket on her shoulders. "Were you able to learn any more about the good doctor's tastes while you were away?" She asked, switching to French. They often did that when they wanted their conversations to be private.

"It's common for him." He answered. 

"Did you find out why?"

"I have a theory." They walked toward the door. "But I will need more time to flush it out."

And it was true. He did have a theory. But the theory had many moving parts. And he would have to wait for another body to make certain. But that wasn't his main focus of the night. His recent dance with Hannibal Lecter, and the food the other provided, made another hunger begin to stir within him. He was more than certain that Hannibal had killed Cassie Boyle. And then fed her to him. And that made something much darker stir within him. Tonight, he wasn't just searching for entertainment, he was hunting. 

He had debated, for the briefest moment earlier that day, about killing Hannibal. It would have been easy. They were close enough and the motel was isolated enough that he could have taken the body and disposed of it without other people seeing him. But just as Hannibal hadn't taken the opportunity to kill him when he had the chance, Will didn't the opportunity either. Their game was far too interesting to end so abruptly. 

But now he had a need within him. But he wasn't exactly certain what all that need entailed. Perhaps it was the fact that Hannibal had killed someone to catch his attention. And he felt the need to do the same. 

They walked into the entryway of the Verger residence. He had seen it many times over the years. He knew the chandeliers that hung on the ceiling, he knew the man who took their coats upon entry, he knew the off-white color of the walls and the massive portrait of Margot and Mason's father in the entryway. He knew the marble floors, he knew the crystal glassware, he knew the way the sound echoed on the walls from the music played by a live band and how it differed from a recording. He knew his way around their Baltimore residence like the back of his hand. He knew Mason's laugh the moment he heard it. He knew Margot's smile the moment he saw it. He knew several of the guests, having come across them more than once. He knew where all the rooms were in the house. He knew how to find the restrooms and the kitchen. He knew where the hard liquor would be kept. He knew there would be some of the younger crowd sneaking upstairs for some more illicit activities. He knew there would be a suckling pig in the dining room. He knew Mason would likely show some of his guests the small pigpen they kept on the property. He knew Margot would be looking for someone to have fun with that night.

Will's eyes immediately skipped over the usual party crowd. They would be noted if they went missing, but the rest were fair game. He could likely find someone who weaseled their way into the party or were plus ones. But he was always very specific with who he hunted. He wondered idly if he and Hannibal would overlap in their preferred hunts, or if they would diverge there. He grasped a flute of champagne as it passed, his mother mirroring him. She likely knew what he was looking for. She likely knew that he was on the hunt this night. And she wouldn't stop him. It was one of the few reasons she was one of the few people who truly saw him. 

He and his mother parted at some point during the night. He doubted he would stay for dessert, and he doubted she would either. But they would not be leaving together, and she knew that.

He walked through the party, meeting people here and there. But none caught his attention.

That was until he met a friend of Margot's. Margot knew somewhat of his tendencies, just as he knew hers. But she likely would not have walked into the party with a man on her arm if she didn't want him to die. He would die either by Will's hand, or Mason's. The other man was taken with Will easily. A flutter of his eyelashes here and a small smile there and the man was putty in his hands. It took little to see why Margot sought his death. The man was everything Will despised. Will knew he was rich and lucky in many ways. But this man exploited his wealth. He lorded it over others making himself seem better because he had resources. He looked down on other people, and likely others with similar proclivities. Will knew he was bisexual, and he used it to his advantage when he could. But this man looked down on other people for their sexuality. 

Will would kill him slowly. 

He managed to coax the other man from the party with the promise of stronger alcohol and sex. The man came willingly, with Will leading him by his nose. The other had driven and Will took full advantage of it, rubbing over the other man's body seductively until he pulled off the side of the desolate road. 

He claimed Will's mouth too roughly, his kisses sloppy and demanding in a way Will didn't want. He kissed him back and the other man sank into his touch. His hand came up to the other's throat, squeezing gently at first.

"Easy, love," The man purred. "Don't want me passing out too soon. Not enough fun."

"I'm having plenty of fun," Will answered. He felt a smirk pull at his lips as he squeezed harder. The man panicked, pulling at Will's hand but his grip was like a vice. "This is plenty of fun for me. _Love._ "

The man went limp under his grasp and Will smirked. He pulled the man into the passenger seat and stepped out of the car. It would look like he was driving his drunk friend home as he drove them. Will could feel the darkness within him purring with satisfaction at seeing the fear in the other man's eyes. He would take him apart slowly, watching his fear. He enjoyed toying with them, watching their fear build before he took it and everything else from them. 

He spent the rest of the night toying with him, watching the fear in his eyes. He straddled the other man watching the fear in his eyes as he wrapped hands around his throat. The man struggled against his restraints but his eyes were fixed on Will's. Yet he wished it was another man under him. He wished it was amber eyes and a more muscled body. He wished it the situation were different, that he had coaxed Hannibal from the party for a different activity. But he was here and now with a different man whose life was slipping away under Will's grasp.

Will watched the light fade from his eyes, contentment purring within him.


	6. Chapter 6

When Hannibal arrived at his office, he found a message waiting for him. Jack was incredibly vague about the details as he requested Hannibal's presence at a new crime scene. His curiosity bested him and he found himself calling his morning patients to reschedule his appointments. They were all more than understanding, except for Franklyn who sounded incredibly disappointed, before he straightened his already immaculate desk and left his office. The drive to the crime scene wasn't that far and he was there within half an hour. The crime scene was well guarded, with police officers stationed every few feet and police cars blocking most of the drive. Hannibal pulled his Bentley to the side of the road behind a rather large SUV and climbed from the car, buttoning his suit jacket and adjusting his waistcoat over it. Jack was waiting for him just outside the police line.

The crime scene was just outside of Baltimore in a small park. Jack informed him about the discovery of the body by a couple of kids. He was lucky to have the scene quarantined before Freddie Lounds could arrive and potentially compromise the investigation. Hannibal examined the other man. They had only met twice previously, but this was not the same Jack Crawford that came to his office nor the same one that commanded his own office. This man was tense, his eyes laser-focused. Whatever had been found set the other man on edge and Hannibal was more than curious. They walked through the police line and further into a set of trees. Hannibal had been here once before. There was an observatory not that far from the forest area they were entering. Jack explained that they were trying to keep the public as far away from the body as possible, hence the hike into the forest.

The pair walked to where a trio of investigators, likely various lab scientists, were standing, talking amongst themselves. Just beyond them, he caught sight of Will, kneeling on the other side of a body. Hannibal's curiosity was piqued. He ignored Jack and the other three — Beverly Katz, Jimmy Price, and Brian Zeller he learned — and walked closer to where Will was. His eyes were closed, but his eyes were flying under the lids. He stepped carefully, avoiding making too much noise to not pull Will from whatever thought was currently occupying him. For once, it wasn't Will that was the most interesting thing for him to see. It was the body. Or more accurately, the reproduction that laid between him and Will. He had seen this before, he had done this before. 

The body was placed carefully, with a variety of rebar of all sizes shoved through various places. But these were specific places.

The Wound Man.

The drawing appeared in a lot of early medical texts, detailing several possible places for lacerations and wounds. It was quite artfully done, something unworthy of being found in a medical text. Hannibal rather thought it should be in a museum. He had reproduced the drawing once with a man named Jeremy Olmstead. He was rather rude when he had come to fix something at Hannibal's house. The task itself was long forgotten, but the man and his rudeness were not. He had made him something beautiful, rather than the disgusting attitude he had presented Hannibal. Miriam Lass had come along not long after that and he knew then how close the FBI was to catching him. Her disappearance, however, seemed to put the FBI off his trail and he had stopped displaying his victims. That was until a few days prior when he left Cassie Boyle for Will to find. And now, he was faced with a reproduction of his own work.

And this was expertly done. Hannibal himself could have done it. But this wasn't Hannibal. This wasn't a victim of his, a work of art that he had given the world.

He stepped closer to the body, careful not to touch anything, as he noticed the chest was open, and the lungs were missing. The cut was done expertly, by someone who knew anatomy. All signs would point to Hannibal, or rather his alter ego the Chesapeake Ripper, as having been the artist behind this particular design. 

But this wasn't him.

So who?

He looked up to find Will's brilliant ocean-colored eyes watching him closely. Hannibal's focus shifted from the body to the man on the other side. Will looked calmer than he had in days. His body was more relaxes, his shoulders dropped from his ears as though he had a massage. His eyes held a curious light to them as they flicked over Hannibal. He stood, brushing the detritus from his pants. He walked closer until he was the same distance Hannibal was from the body. A breeze ruffled his dark curls but he didn't seem to care. He was focused completely on Hannibal and Hannibal knew it.

"What do you see, Doctor?"

"I would almost say this is-" He paused and looked at Will again. Truly looked at him.

Will's eyes were following every movement he made, his attention on him would be suffocating for anyone else. His hands were folded behind his back. But more than that, there was a curious air about him. A playful air. As if Will knew something he didn't.

"The Chesapeake Ripper?" Will offered his lips twitched slightly. 

Hannibal knew who this killer was. And he was staring at him. 

"Yes," Hannibal answered.

"And why don't you think it's the Ripper, Doctor?" He cocked his head slightly. "They certainly think it is."

Will walked around the body, each step slow and deliberate until he was at Hannibal's side. They both looked at the body before him and Hannibal couldn't help but admire the art. And the underlying message. This wasn't for the FBI. This wasn't Will trying to tell them the Ripper was still out and about. Just as Cassie Boyle had been for Will, this man was for Hannibal. Will took a step away from the body as the other members of Jack's team returned, approaching the body with cameras and various tools. Hannibal stepped back to Will's side, their shoulders nearly touching. Jack stood at a distance still, one arm folded across his body and the other propped on it, his hand pressed against his mouth.

Hannibal watched as the other members of Jack's team descended on the body, taking pictures and cataloging the surroundings. Will stood perfectly still at his side, watching everything. The three of them talked amongst themselves as they worked. 

"He was dead before his lungs were removed," Zeller said, gesturing with his pinky to the split-open chest cavity of the man. 

"He was strangled," Katz said, taking a picture of the bruise around his neck. "I would say the time of death was sometime last night between ten and 1 am. I can't know for certain until we do an autopsy though."

"It was after ten," Will said suddenly, his eyes glued to the body. It was that which caught Jack's attention and the man walked over.

"How do you know?"

"I met him, last night," Will answered. "He was at a gathering hosted by Mason Verger." Will blinked and then looked up at Jack. "My mother and I left before he did, however. Somewhere around 10:30."

Hannibal wanted to smirk. Of course, Will would be smart enough to leave before his victim, or at least to appear he left before his victim. He would have an alibi, given that plenty of people would see him leaving with his mother before the man left. If he had lured his victim from the party, then it was likely that he had suggested leaving separately, to avoid unwanted gossip. It was a brilliant plan. He had found his victim while giving himself an alibi for his death. His mother would no doubt uphold his alibi and Will would be free from suspicion. And he would be there the next morning to see his handy work and Hannibal's reaction to it. As he wanted. Will's plan was perfectly executed and Hannibal had played into it without knowing as much. He wanted to see more. 

There was a snap somewhere around them. Hannibal saw Will turn as he did out of the corner of his eyes. Both of them were staring at the tree line and a bright red head of hair that vanished behind one of the trees.

"Freddie," Will huffed. 

Jack called to one of the officers to escort Freddie Lounds from the scene. Hannibal had never seen Ms. Lounds in person, but he had read her website, _Tattlecrime_. Freddie Lounds was a rather rabid journalist who had a way of bending the truth and story to her will. It would fit her rabid readership and Hannibal couldn't help but wonder what story she was currently cooking behind those bright blue eyes and sly smirk. Hannibal could barely understand what Jack was saying as he bellowed at the police officers while Freddie was escorted across the police line. His attention was back on Will, just as Will's attention had returned to him. Will's eyes were fixed on the side of his face, though it would seem as though he were watching Freddie to make certain she was across the line. Hannibal looked ahead at the body, but he was focused completely on Will.

They were dancing around each other in a game they had just started, and yet both have jumped in feet first. He could see the message in the duplicated art. He could see the recognition. Will knew he was the Ripper and Hannibal had all but confirmed it. And Hannibal knew it was Will who left the body for them to find. It was Will who had recreated a piece of his art while acknowledging the art Hannibal had left for him. He had taken Cassie Boyle's lungs when he killed her, and now Will had taken the lungs of this man. 

He wondered what the man did to deserve his fate, and why he no longer deserved his lungs. Cassie Boyle had been rather rude when he came across her. She had screamed at the poor overworked cashier, demanding he fix something he couldn't control. He was just a teenager, overworked and underpaid. He took those rather rude lungs from her. But he wondered what this man had done to earn the removal of his lungs if anything. Perhaps it was yet another nod to Hannibal. Will knew and now he was mimicking him, just as he had with the reproduction of the Wound Man. 

Will and Hannibal left the scene at the same time, walking in step with each other until they were on the other side of the police line. Even still, Will was only a hair away from him. A slight movement and the two would touch. He wondered what the touch would feel like now. Before, there had been a small hint of electricity to Will's touch, when he had taken the bag from Hannibal's hand the day before. Now, though, he wondered if the electricity would be worse. Or if it would be something akin to stepping into a stream. Would his touch be calming, or would it set Hannibal on fire as it almost had the day before? 

Will walked him to his car. He stepped ahead of him and turned so he was blocking the driver's side door. The full weight of his gaze was on Hannibal now, with nothing held back. Hannibal, however, was looking over his shoulder where Freddie Lounds vanished in her car. He would have to read _Tattlecrime_ later to see what she had gleaned from Will's gift. 

"Are you busy this morning, Doctor?" Hannibal blinked and turned slowly, meeting Will's gaze. The other stepped forward into his space. "You see," He said, slipping into French. "I have some ingredients for a meal, and I happen to know a fantastic cook. Perhaps ingredients fitting for a lunch."

He was going to devour him. There would be no more Will Graham. No more Hannibal Lecter even. They were dragging each other closer until there would be no separation between them. And Will was offering him that chance. 

If he had to guess, the ingredients included the lungs taken from Will's gift. And he wanted it. Not because he had a desire for human flesh, though he would admit that his expanded palate did crave it from time to time. But because of what it meant. Will had taken the lungs _for him._ He was offering them to him. A part of the world they knew they shared but neither dared speak of. He wanted more. He wanted everything.

Will smirked at Hannibal's lack of an answer.

"I'll see you shortly, Doctor."

Hannibal watched him return to his own car.

He would never deny his infatuation with Will from the moment he saw him. Even part of himself knew he was smitten. But he now realized this was something beyond infatuation. This was something beyond his obsessive side. This was his possessive side. This was his curious side. This was the side that Will Graham had awoken when he stepped into his office. This was the side that saw such a majestic being in the other, a being who seemed to crave him as deeply. And Will was majestic. Ethereal. Hannibal was well studied in religions of all kinds and he often used God in his own life. But he hadn't realized all those years ago during his studies he would meet his god.

And he wanted everything he would offer.

* * *

**_The Ripper Returns?_ **

> _Two years ago, the Baltimore area was plagued by the notorious killer known as the Chesapeake Ripper. The Ripper was infamous for his brutal kills and vicious, albeit artistic, displays. Nine victims in total fell to the Ripper. The FBI and the Behavioral Sciences Unit headed by Agent Jack Crawford tried in vain to catch the notorious killer. After the disappearance of FBI trainee Miriam Lass, however, it appeared the Ripper had gone silent, leaving the FBI and Jack Crawford empty-handed._
> 
> _However, dear readers, earlier today another body was discovered. The last of the Ripper victims, a man named Jeremy Olmstead, was mutilated in a rendition of the Wound Man, a picture often found in classical medical texts. After the disappearance of Miriam Lass, it seemed as though Olmstead's murder, and the murder of eight other innocent victims, would go unsolved. But has the Ripper returned?  
> _
> 
> _A body discovered earlier today mirrored that of the Ripper's last known victim. The body was mutilated in the same brutal way as Jeremy Olmstead, raising the question; Has the Ripper returned once more?_
> 
> _But that, dear readers, is not the most curious part of the story._
> 
> _The investigators, including Agent Jack Crawford, descended on the scene with haste this morning, hoping to keep the scene from reaching the public. Recently, Jack Crawford has brought into his employ Special Agent Will Graham. Not much is known about the Special Agent. He is the son of wealthy socialite Frances DuBois. He was once employed by the New Orleans Police Department and left under mysterious circumstances. He is a teacher at the FBI Academy, shaping new minds in criminal justice. And he is not an FBI agent._
> 
> _Pictured above are Will Graham and well-renowned psychiatrist Dr. Hannibal Lecter standing on either side of the Ripper's potential new victim. It is common for the FBI to bring consultants onto the scene to help with cases. Yet neither consultant seems to be consulting on the case._
> 
> _As you can see, dear readers, neither man is focused on the body but rather on each other. Why? We must ask. Why is renowned psychiatrist Dr. Hannibal Lecter consulting on a case with notoriously unstable Special Agent Will Graham? And why, dear readers, are the Special Agent and his psychiatrist handler focused on each other, rather than their case? I'll leave it to you to decide, dear readers. But perhaps, are those shared smiles and intense gazes signify something more?_


	7. Chapter 7

Will watched Hannibal's careful but strong movements as he readied their lunch. He was certain this wasn't the first time Hannibal had prepared a meal with an audience, but he was certain it was the first time the audience knew exactly what was in the meal. It was impulsive to have taken the lungs from his victim and it was far more impulsive to have offered them to Hannibal. His mother would chide him for his impulsiveness and rightly so. She had worked for years to help him hone his worst impulses and to not let them best him. Normally, he was incredibly controlled. Even when he killed, he never left a body behind. Margot wasn't exactly privy to the details of his kills, though she had more than once brought someone around who was likely to die by either his hand. Or Mason's. For Mason, any man that Margot brought around was a threat. Their father's will stated clearly that the Verger fortune would go a male heir. If Margot had a son, however, Mason would be at risk of losing his life. Even with Margot knew, however, she never said anything and there was never a body to prove a crime at all. For either Mason or Will. 

This was the first time he left a body for others to find. And he had done so on purpose. He knew now with absolute certainty that Hannibal was the Ripper. He had thought as much after Hannibal fed him Cassie Boyle's lungs, but he was certain after seeing Hannibal's face at the crime scene. The flash of confusion. He could practically see the question running behind his eyes. After all, Hannibal was the Ripper and the victim was mutilated very similarly to a Ripper victim. But Hannibal hadn't killed him. The confusion was quickly followed by realization as their eyes met for the first time that day. Will had been watching for only a moment before Hannibal's eyes finally slid to his. And they didn't leave. 

"Are you certain your presence won't be requested?" Hannibal asked, moving from one task to the next. 

"Oh, I'm certain it will be. But I am currently visiting with my FBI appointed psychiatrist to who is also consulting on the same case." Will himself look as innocent as possible before he took another sip of the wine Hannibal offered him. "I am _unstable_ after all."

Hannibal smirked at the meal he was preparing. Will rolled the stem of the wine glass between his fingers before setting it down lightly on the counter.

"Now that Abigail has given her statement, Jack will want us and Alana to accompany her back to Minnesota." He rested his hands on the countertop. "He'll want her to recreate that last morning. And have her show us anything else pertinent to her father's crimes. He'll likely have a cabin, somewhere he could bring them so that his wife and daughter didn't see them." Hannibal didn't say anything so Will continued. "He thinks she was a part of it."

"How do you feel about that?" 

Will smirked and Hannibal looked at him, his head still mostly pointed toward the task in front of him, but his eyes focused on Will. 

"How do you feel about that?" 

"I think it's vulgar," Hannibal answered.

"It is." Will agreed. "And likely true."

"Yet you won't tell Jack that."

Will scoffed. "No." He took another sip of wine. "She's not a bad person. Jack would crucify her for her father's deeds if he knew it was true."

"Do you see yourself as her protector, Will?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. But I do have a responsibility toward her. Just as you do."

"And I intend to live up to the responsibility."

"Why?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "She doesn't seem to remember that it was you who called the house. You could wash your hands of this and be done."

"And how would you see me if I did?"

"You think I would see you as a bad person." Will scoffed again. "Good and evil only exist at the extremes, Doctor. A person isn't the sum of wholly their good or bad parts. Every individual action has a consequence and every consequence is what it is. Good. Evil. Those are reserved for the dramatic."

Hannibal's lips twitched. "Then neither you nor I are evil."

Will leaned forward, feeling his lips begin to pull into a sly smile. "Why would either of us be evil, Docteur?" He let himself slip into French for the other man's title, only to watch something flash in those amber eyes. Why he constantly felt the need to invade the other's space, he didn't know. But Hannibal didn't complain. He didn't back away. In fact, Will was certain he leaned closer. 

"You said you met our friend in the woods last night," Hannibal's voice was barely above a whisper. "What was he like?"

"Touchy," Will muttered. He was certain that something flashed in the other's eyes this time. Something much darker. "He was wealthy and had the personality of someone who lorded it over others. He was uncomfortable with his sexuality and that made him look down on others for theirs."

"You seem certain about his sexuality."

Will raised an eyebrow for a moment before speaking again. "He arrived on the arm of someone I know favors her own gender over others and rather than flirt with any of the available women, he flirted with me." He watched the micro-expressions flit over Hannibal's face and he was supremely satisfied with the result. Hannibal didn't lift his eyes to Will's again and he was incredibly curious what he would find in those amber depths. 

"Did he deserve to die?"

"I would think the killer certain thought so." 

Neither had said what they both knew and it made for a maddening game of dancing around the subject. Here and there they came close in the few days they had known each other, but even still neither had come out and said it. And that was just as frustrating. They had only known each other for a few days. And yet Will was incredibly fascinated with the man across from him and Hannibal was equally as interested. Will could see it in his eyes. How much worse would their shared infatuation become if they admitted the unspoken but shared secret between them? How much worse would their dance become if they admitted the dance they were in?

Hannibal looked up at him once again. Will thought back to his kill the previous night. And how part of him had wished it was Hannibal he lured from the party. How part of him had wished they were together, participating in an altogether different activity. He was too attached too quickly to the doctor. And he knew he shouldn't be. His mother had chided him on it the night before and even still he chided himself for it. Any connection between them was dangerous. The worst temptations between them were dangerous. And yet he was tempted. He was tempted and interested and it was dangerous.

Hannibal Lecter was dangerous. He had to keep reminding himself of that. He had to remind himself that the man across from him was a killer. The Chesapeake Ripper at that. And yet he kept finding himself returning to the man. He didn't have to take the lungs from his victim. The mutilation, while done post mortem, was enough to achieve the confirmation he wanted. And yet he took the lungs. He didn't use them for himself, not to say that he hadn't had that particular curiosity in the past. But he took the lungs specifically for Hannibal and that was risky. That was impulsive. And that rewarded him in this current conversation and near-touches. 

But God it was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. And he had no right to be. 

"Hungry?" Hannibal asked after a long, silent moment.

"Very."

* * *

Hannibal could feel every movement that Will made as though he too was making it as they walked from the kitchen into his dining room. Will had been in his house before on the night they met, but he hadn't returned since. Every other interaction had been at his office or when they were out and about. He normally sat at the head of the table and was tempted to do so just for the nearness it would offer as Will set his plate down. He knew every movement he made would be cataloged by Will. He would see the intention behind any action that Hannibal made. In the end, he moved to sit across the table. It offered the advantage of being able to look the other man in the eyes. For someone who claimed to hate eye contact, he certainly was more than willing to meet Hannibal's eyes.

He wondered if that was an exemption he made for Hannibal. He had watched him interact with others, including Abigail. Will didn't meet their eyes, normally looking over their shoulder or somewhere on their face where it would appear he was looking at them. But with Hannibal, he focused completely on him. His gaze was unrestrained as he looked at him, everything evident in his eyes. And he was certain something was underlying that gaze. Something he also felt. 

He thought perhaps his own infatuation with Will wasn't mirrored. But, in fact, it was. Will was just as intoxicated by him as he was by Will. There had been a moment in the kitchen when his rather possessive side threatened to break from his control. Hearing that someone else had touched Will, was overly touchy with Will, made him for a brief moment wish he had been the one to kill him. But the man had died at Will's hands. He knew he shouldn't be as possessive of someone he barely knew but he was. He wanted him for himself and only himself. It was illogical that he should want Will so much.

But yet he knew there was a reason behind it. He knew that part of his want of Will was the fact that he could see him for who he was, who he truly was, and wouldn't shy away. He wouldn't think him a monster, and he wouldn't crave one side of him over the other. He wouldn't prefer the monster over the man or vice versa. He could tell, even in the few days they had known each other, that Will would accept all of him for who he was. And that was what he craved. He didn't even know that he craved it until he found that it was something he could potentially have. He had always thought himself solitary. He had friendships with people who knew part of him, and those cultivated relationships were carefully put together. Even Bedelia, his longtime friend, colleague, and therapist, stated she only knew apart of him. But with Will, there was a chance all of him could be seen. With Will, there was a chance everything could be out in the open and without them dancing around it, and neither would shy away.

He wouldn't say he was lonely. But he realized that he was all too alone. 

Will watched him as much as he watched Will, their every movement cataloged where they had started to build their images of each other. 

The rest of their meal was spent in relative silence with only gazes exchanged between them. Will helped him clean up after the meal before answering a call and being drawn away. He heaved a rather dramatic sigh before bidding him a good afternoon.

It was a week before he and Will spoke again. This time once again in the Hobbs house. 

Will was casually sitting on the floor next to Abigail. Alana sat on the couch as they looked through the boxes that the FBI had already started packing. Abigail had expressed her desire to sell the house and Will had agreed, stating she could put the money toward whatever she wanted. Abigail sighed, shifting through the boxes before Alana said something that suddenly sparked her interest. 

"Are we going to reenact that morning?" She asked, her light eyes jumping toward Alana. "You can be my mom," She turned to Will. "You can be my dad." She then turned to Hannibal. "And you can be the man on the phone."

Hannibal blinked at her, his face never displaying the amusement he felt. Will, however, didn't try to withhold his amusement. His whole head turned toward Hannibal, an amused smirk starting to spread across his face.

"What a novel idea," Will said in French as they moved onto other topics. "You could be the man on the phone, Doctor."

Hannibal turned his head to face the other fully, meeting his bright ocean-colored eyes. Will was standing next to him now, their eyes locked together. Will refused to hide his amusement while Alana and Abigail continued talking, walking into another room. Hannibal and Will, however, were still in the same spot, eyes locked together in the silent challenge. Will's amusement met his lack thereof, even though Will likely knew that his amusement was buried deep. He stepped closer to the other, their eyes still locked together.

"Enjoying yourself?" Hannibal asked, replying in French.

"I'm curious what will happen, Doctor."

"What are your expectations?" He stepped closer. "What is the reaction you were hoping for?"

Will hummed. "Perhaps this reaction is what I wanted." He leaned forward. "Perhaps I wanted you to be the one to step closer for once."

If they were in a different situation, he would be tempted to close the gap between them. He would be tempted to see what would happen if he pressed against Will. Would Will find him "touchy" or would he touch him back? But they weren't alone and he couldn't risk having them caught. He knew there was a chance that Freddie Lounds could be lurking around. Hannibal was rather amused by her article the week prior. She was right. There was more to their gazes than just a psychiatrist and patient relationship.

But instead, he stepped away from Will who smirked again. They followed Alana and Abigail through the house until they were in the kitchen once more. Abigail stared at the cabinets where her father had fallen when he died. It was then that Will finally looked away from Hannibal. He stepped up to Abigail, standing at her side. She looked over at him, a small tear running from her eye. 

"I still don't know how to feel about that morning." She whispered. "I remember the call. Vaguely. I handed the phone to my father and then-" She paused and wrapped her arms around herself. "He froze after the call. He was cold and distant and it was scary. He was never like that before. The moment he heard something outside he grabbed my mom and the knife he was using to cut the vegetables. He-" Her voice shook. "He pulled the knife across her throat so quickly. As if he had done it before. My mom was gasping for air." He could hear the sadness in her voice and the tears that flowed down her face. "He shoved her out the door." She turned and buried herself against Will who wrapped his arms around her. "He came back and grabbed me." She fisted her hand in his jacket. "I thought I was going to die."

Will ran a hand over her hair. They stood for a moment before Abigail let him go. 

"I'm ok." She breathed, sucking in a breath.

"You don't have to be brave," Alana said quietly. "It was a traumatic experience. It's ok to not be ok right now."

"I'm ok." She said again. 

Another sound caught their attention and Hannibal turned just in time to see another girl enter the house. She ducked around the door and Abigail sighed in relief.

"Hi, Abby." She said quietly.

"Marissa."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you to know that I read and love all of your comments. <3 Thank you all so much.

Will was more than surprised to find someone with the same profile as Abigail still alive around her. Marissa, as Abigail called her, had the same height, weight, hair color, eye color, and wind chafed skin. Everything about her would have fit Garret Jacob Hobbs's profile and yet she was alive and well and seemingly a good friend of Abigail. The pair moved close to each other, embracing in a hug that Abigail clearly needed, even if she said she didn't. They walked through the house to the front door, chattering lowly between themselves. Alana looked around the house more, but Hannibal stayed at his side. He evaluated the other man as everyone left the kitchen. The last time Will had been in this room, he had killed a man. And he had killed another since. And Hannibal knew about both. Will watched the other's movements and he couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking about murdering Abigail's friend. 

He moved, catching Hannibal's attention and shook his head once. Hannibal raised an eyebrow before giving a slight nod. It was enough to communicate their intentions between them, and Hannibal's acceptance to leave Abigail's friend alone. Will moved toward the front door for some air, feeling Hannibal move behind them. They walked down the drive. He could see Abigail and Marissa move out of the corner of his eye. Hannibal stayed at his side, the two of them walking slowly and instep.

Will inhaled deeply, smelling the cool, Minnesota air. He knew he should be more bothered about stepping foot in the house where he killed a man. But that man had also killed eight girls, his wife, and nearly his own daughter. Will doubted he wouldn't care that much if he were someone else either. Garret Jacob Hobbs, though, was an interesting man. Will knew he had killed those girls to stop himself from killing his daughter. It was a strange impulse to Will. To kill one's flesh and blood. But Will didn't have a daughter, so perhaps he couldn't fully understand the impulse surrounding it. He did, however, have a mother and she was the last person he would ever want to kill. Will's impulses were different that Hobbs's. He killed partially because he could, partially as a punishment, but mostly because it was the only time his mind was truly quiet. All the time, at every moment, he was intaking information and his mind was always running. It never stopped. Not during work, not at home, not at any of his mother's parties, not at night. It was never truly quiet. Until he killed. Then, his mind was silent. Peaceful. Powerful.

There might be one exception to his usual, loud mind. And it was in the form of the man next to him. 

Knowing someone, truly knowing someone, was a great gift. And the prospect of being known was enticing. To him, it always seemed like his peers were much more easily known than he was. They could connect easily, they could always interact easier. It was strange to Will partially because he could put himself in their minds, see everything through their eyes. He could see the world as they saw it, though it was much easier for him with sociopaths and psychopaths. It was easier to slip into their minds and understand them. He thought, to some degree at least, he could understand Hannibal. But Hannibal didn't strike him fully as a sociopath and psychopath. His emotions were complex and interwoven with his worst impulses. He enjoyed the kill, he wanted to kill, but it wasn't the kill itself he needed, just like Will. And it just added to the many reasons why Hannibal Lecter was dangerous. 

They were nearly at the end of the drive before a series of shouts caught their attention. Will huffed as he walked toward the sounds, following the voices of Abigail and her friend. He arrived just in time to watch another, a young man, scamper into the woods. Alana ran from the house at the noises, but much like Hannibal, he was focused on watching the boy vanish into the woods. He could hear Marissa explained what had happened, how the boy came from the woods, what he had said, how she had thrown a rock at him to chase him away. Abigail moved away from Alana, coming to a stop next to Will.

"He said he thought I killed his sister. Or that my dad did." She whispered to him. "He said his sister's name was Cassie." It was then that Will turned to her, keeping his face perfectly neutral. Cassie wasn't one of Garret Jacob Hobbs's victims. Will knew that. And it appeared Abigail knew that too. "Cassie wasn't-" 

He stepped closer decreasing the space between them and lowering his voice. "Don't say anything else. Not now." He glanced over at Alana before his eyes ran over Hannibal and his not-so-subtle movement. Or at least not subtle to Will. Abigail swallowed but nodded, her mouth closing with an audible click. 

Will stepped back. "I don't think we need anything else here." He said louder, making certain everyone else could hear it. "I think it might be for the best that we leave for now. If Jack has any questions he can call." He nodded to Marissa before turning back to Abigail. 

He stepped away as Abigail moved toward Marissa, a sad look on her face. Alana walked with the two girls back closer to the house while he moved toward Hannibal.

"Cassie Boyle's brother." He said, glancing back toward the woods.

"It's a wonder he found the Hobbs's house."

"Not a wonder," Will huffed. "Just a red-headed annoyance." 

"You suspect Freddie Lounds," Hannibal said.

"Suspect?" Will scoffed. "This has Freddie written all over it in big bold letters. She's a fan of trespassing, has been for years. You saw her the other day." Hannibal didn't give his affirmation but that was enough of an affirmation for Will. "She pointed him in the right direction. She knew Abigail would be here. She was probably hoping for something more than a rock to his eye though." Will kicked Hannibal's foot with his own lightly. "I saw that by the way." 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow and Will shook his head. They walked back toward the others where Abigail and Marissa were embracing once again. 

"Call me, ok?" Marissa gripped her arms. "I'll answer. We can talk about our dorm in the fall." Abigail nodded, and Will could see a tear roll down her cheek.

She would never fully move past her trauma, not when it was done by someone so close. But she could continue on with her life and Will was determined to help her do so. But that would mean keeping her and Hannibal apart. He didn't need someone else dragged into the game the two of them were playing. It would be especially dangerous for someone who wasn't him or Hannibal. And it was likely that Hannibal knew that. So, Will would have to give him an alternative to dragging Abigail into their game. Give him something else he wanted more. Or rather, someone. 

The next day, Will woke up with a plan in mind. But before he could enact his plan with Hannibal, he had something else in mind for the majority of the day. He let his dogs out, watching them run around the property. While they were busy playing and relieving themselves, Will readied their breakfast. The dogs crowded onto the porch as Will dished out their food. He made a point of making their food every day rather than buying it. They ate happily, tails occasionally slapping the wall or the porch railing while he readied his car. The dogs finished their breakfast, most of them waiting patiently by the door, knowing he was going to let them back in. Except for one. He had found his newest dog, Winston, the night after Jack had brought him the Hobbs case. The poor dog was running on the street alone without a collar or a decent bath. He had been a pain to catch, but Will caught him eventually. He seemed to be the most attached to Will, often sleeping at his side or the foot of his bed. 

"Don't worry," He said, kneeling next to the dog and petting his ears. "I'll be back. And with a friend."

Winston's ears perked up at the word friend and Will smiled. He let the dogs back into the house and locked it up behind him. 

It took almost an hour to drive to Abigail's temporary home. He arrived to find another familiar car already in the parking lot. He refrained from rolling his eyes as he entered, signing in at the desk and walking toward the room assigned to Abigail. He was rather annoyed that he could hear Freddie's voice before he ever entered the room and part of him wanted to barge in. Instead, however, he stopped outside the door, knocking lightly. The voice inside stopped and Will entered before Abigail could bid him to enter. He saw a flash of relief in her eyes but he focused on Freddie.

"Because he is insane," Freddie said, finishing her earlier thought.

"Freddie," Will greeted. He folded his hands behind his back and stepped closer. "Do you know the definition of insanity, Freddie?"

Freddie's bright, sky-blue eyes narrowed on him. Will was partially convinced her eyes were as bright as they were because of her flame-red curly hair and her dark red lipstick. She smirked at him.

"Doing the same thing over and over and expecting the same result." She answered.

"Exactly," Will answered. "And here you are."

Freddie squared her shoulders. "Is there something you would like to say to me, Special Agent?"

Will dropped his eyes to her hand where he knew her tape recorder was. He looked back up, raising an eyebrow. Freddie pursed her lips and turned back to Abigail. She pulled a card from her purse and handed it to Abigail. 

"I'm here to help you tell your side of the story."

Will watched her leave, looking over his shoulder until she vanished down the hall. He turned back to Abigail and raised an eyebrow. She shrugged and set Freddie's card down on the table next to her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, folding her hands on the blanket in front of her. 

"Wanna escape for the day?" He asked. Her eyes lit up. "Just something to take your mind off of everything." 

"Ok. Where are we going?" 

"It's a surprise. But dress for the outdoors. Meet me out front when you're done."

She nodded and jumped from the bed. Will smiled to himself and walked back through the building until he stepped outside. Freddie's car was gone. He walked to his car, leaning on the hood. Abigail didn't make him wait for long before she walked from the building, dressed similarly to him. Both were in jeans and overly large sweaters. He walked to the passenger's side door and opened it, waiting as Abigail entered the car, settling herself in the passenger's seat. Will closed the door and walked around the car. He settled himself in the driver's side before raising the cord that connected to the stereo and offering it to Abigail. 

"Want to pick the music?" 

Abigail smiled and pulled her phone from her pocket. Will backed out of the parking lot listening to Kesha's "Die Young" echo from the speakers. They made the nearly hour-long trip for the second in Will's day with a variety of pop music echoing from his car. He often didn't play music in his car, his thoughts enough to entertain him as he drove from city to city. But sometimes, he listened to the radio and whatever was one. He had heard the song before, along with a lot of the others Abigail played. Idly, he wondered what Hannibal Lecter played in his car. He had a feeling the man would favor classical music over other kinds. 

They arrived back at his house, hearing barking long before he shut off the car. 

"Is this your house?" Abigail asked as she stepped from the car. 

"Yes," He said. "But we aren't staying here." He walked forward, looking over his shoulder. "Wait here. They'll want to meet you." He trotted to the house as Abigail paused by the car.

He opened the door as the dogs barged outward, wagging their tails and sniffing. They sniffed him, jumping up and down before looking over at Abigail and practically barreling over each other to reach her. Except for Winston who stayed by his side. Her eyes lit up as they ran toward her, sniffing and wagging their tails, thumping against the car. She took turns petting them and looking at each of their collars for their names. He could hear her greeting them one by one and he smiled slightly to himself. He walked toward the barn. He had been renovating it slowly over the years. He grabbed some of his fishing gear and two poles before moving back toward Abigail. She looked up at him with interest.

"Your father taught you how to hunt," He said, handing her the pole. "I'm going to teach you how to fish."

"One you catch the other you lure." She said, accepting it. She looked it over for a second, and Will wondered if she was going to admit her own experiences with luring. More and more by the day, Will was convinced she had been a part of her father's crimes, but not as another murderer. He thought, perhaps, she was the one who met the girls before, talked to them, learned about them. 

"Yes." He began walking, waving to her over his shoulder. "You coming?"

He could feel her trot up next to him, the dogs dancing around their legs. 

"This is Winston," He said after a second, patting the dog next to him. "He's new."

"Hi Winston," She said, leaning forward slightly to see him. She looked back up at Will again. "How far are we going?"

"Not far. There's a stream just a little ways ahead. Perfect place to start learning."

They made their way to the stream, the dogs jumping in and out of the water and eventually lying on the bank as Will instructed Abigail in what to do. The sun moved overhead and made the water glisten. They moved around the stream, trying again and again to catch something. The stream was sometimes lucrative but sometimes it wasn't. It might one of the bad days. He watched as she cast the line again, feeling the water seep into his jeans. They would be soaked to the bone in their calves, but it wasn't too cold out yet to the point they would freeze. Eventually, Abigail made a catch, reeling in a rather impressive fish. 

"I don't suppose you have a kitchen there," Will said, watching her nod out of the corner of his eye. He nodded. "I'll fix it for you. I know a good cook. Maybe I can talk them into making it a meal to bring you." 

"Is gutting a fish different than gutting a deer?"

"A bit," Will answered. "Less fur to deal with. Less organs too. But smaller bones. You have to be a little more careful when cleaning them, at least at first."

"What about a human?" Abigail whispered. Will thought it was mostly to herself, but he decided to answer it nonetheless.

"It's similar to a deer. Still, less fur." She stopped and he turned to face her.

"He was feeding them to us, wasn't he?"

Will cocked his head at her. "It's likely." 

"He said we would honor every part of the deer when hunting. Do you think he did that with them?"

"Yes."

She blinked tears from her eyes. "Did you know?" She asked, looking down at the fish.

"Did I know what?" Will asked, prompting her to say aloud what they both knew. 

She raised the fish into view. "The lure." She looked away from him. "I was his lure." She looked up at him, but he made certain to keep his face unchanged. She blinked at him and lunged forward. He pulled her against him as she began to shake. "I didn't know what else to do." He rubbed her back, resting his chin against her head. "I didn't think I would tell anyone that." 

"Your secret's safe with me."

"I know."

They resumed their walk. 

"You've killed before." She said after a moment. It wasn't a question, so Will didn't feel the need to respond. "Why do think my father killed?"

Will adjusted the fishing gear he was carrying. The dogs danced around them, moving slower than they had before. They had worn themselves out throughout their little fishing trip. 

"Because he already felt your loss." He could see the questioning look on Abigail's face. "For him, you were his most prized possession. He didn't want to lose you. But you're growing up. Becoming an adult. About to go away to college. That loss for him was too much. He wanted to immortalize you in a way."

"He told me that he killed those girls so he wouldn't have to kill me." Will nodded. He wasn't surprised. "What was so wrong with me that he wanted to kill me?"

He stepped ahead of her, turning to face her and blocking her path. "Nothing is wrong with you." He said firmly. "And nothing ever was. Your father was dealing with the same thing many other parents have to deal with. Baby bird leaving the nest and all that. Nothing is wrong with you. And it wasn't your fault. Your father just-" He paused, thinking. "Took it to the extreme." He looked her in the eye, making certain his point got across. After a moment, she nodded. 

"What if I become like him?" She wiped away a tear rather aggressively. "I didn't want to-" She cut herself off.

Will shook his head. "I doubt it." He stepped aside and they resumed their walk once more. "You're still learning, Abigail. It's not like when you turn 18 you magically become an adult. There's not some great wisdom the universe gives you when you become an adult. Every day you learn a little more. Every day is something new. Your father will be with you for a while, but that doesn't mean you'll become him. You are not your parents."

"What's it like?" They were at the barn now. "Killing, I mean."

"Have you ever read _The Most Dangerous Game_?" She shook her head. "You should, it's a good read. But I'll sum up. A wealthy man has hunted all the big game he can. It's lost the thrill to him. Another washes up on his island after a shipwreck and is taken in by the wealthy man. He says the next day they're going to hunt the most dangerous game. It turns out that the most dangerous game is the other man. To a degree, that's what killing is like. Animals are intelligent." He raised the fish. "But for some of them, you use their instincts against them to catch them. For things like deer, they're not going to attack you back. They're going to run, hide. Humans, however," He paused for a second, replacing his gear and taking the other pole from Abigail. "It's another person across from you. They have complex thoughts, feelings, emotions. Just like you. And you know you're taking that away." They walked toward the house and he whistled for the dogs. He began wiping them off with the towel he reserved for the dogs. They were fairly muddy at this point.

Abigail sat in one of the chairs on the porch. "And killing with things like a gun is impersonal. Killing with a knife is more personal. You're right there, you can see everything. And killing with your hands is-" He paused again. "Intimate. You can feel their life, you can see in their eyes. And then you snuff it out."

Abigail swallowed loudly enough that Will could hear it. "Are you going to tell your boss about me?"

"Should I?" He asked, letting the dogs inside.

"I won't tell anyone about you."

Will smiled slightly. "I wasn't planning on telling Jack anyway." He let the door shut with a soft thud. "Do you want anything to drink? I don't exactly have a lot of food but I'll bring the fish by when it's ready."

She nodded and Will left for a moment, returning with a glass of water. He sat in the chair across from her, watching her. 

"You're not afraid of me." He said after a moment.

She stared at her water before looking up at him again. "No." He raised an eyebrow. "I think it's because I know you won't hurt me." She furrowed her brows for a second. "You're not like my dad." Will shook his head. "The other man that was with you."

"Doctor Lecter."

"His voice sounds so familiar." She tapped her fingers on the glass. "I think he was the man on the phone."

Will nodded. "I think he was too."

"But you're not going to tell Jack that either." She said and it was obvious to Will that it wasn't a guess. "Is he dangerous?"

"Very."

She nodded and took another drink of her water. "I think I'm going to study criminal justice in college."

Will laughed. "I certainly would feel safer with you out there."

She smiled. "I could work for the FBI." 

"You would have to take my class before you could do that."

"You teach?"

He nodded. "At the FBI academy."

"Wouldn't there be some favoritism there?" He could see the humor in her eyes. 

"We won't tell the others." She smiled again. "I'm a hard teacher too. I don't know if you'll make it."

"I'm tough." She answered. 

Will's lips twitched. "Yes, you are." They were silent again as a breeze blew lightly across the porch. 

"Thank you for today," Abigail said. "I needed it."

"You're welcome."


	9. Chapter 9

Over the last month, since he and Will had returned to Minnesota with Abigail, he hadn't seen much of Will. There had been a few cases here and there, one with a man turning people into fertilizer for mushrooms and another who made angels, but those visits had been mostly professional. Will had come by with another set of ingredients one night, only to be called away on a case with a container of left-overs. Hannibal had other visitors, though, including Jack who had become a more frequent guest at his table. He had spent more than one meal trying to convince Jack to bring his wife as well, a gesture of friendship. He had also heard more and more about Jack's speculation that the Chesapeake Ripper had returned. Hannibal always kept his face neutral when the man spoke about his alter ego, but internally, he was smirking.

In that time, as well, he read the many writings of Freddie Lounds, who by far was among one of the more creative "non-fiction" writers Hannibal had ever encountered. That was to say, she ranged more into the realm of creative writing rather than non-fiction. More recently, however, Hannibal's many connections with the wealthy elite of Baltimore had earned him a spot at the rather lavish ball he was currently attending. 

The ball was two days before Christmas, a holiday Hannibal didn't exactly celebrate but didn't not celebrate either. He hadn't had much of an occasion since he was a boy to celebrate the holiday. The ball was filled with people in too elaborate dresses and others in repetitive black tuxes. Hannibal definitely didn't fall into the category of repetitive black tuxes. He wore a forest green suit with a silver paisley tie. He thought it fitting for the season. And he assumed he would be the only one who didn't keep to the traditional black tux theme. He was wrong. 

The space for the ball was likely rented out and decorated. The ball was rather grand, with massive silver chandeliers and silver snowflakes carefully hung from the ceiling. Small fairy lights decorated the walls, flickering slightly to mimic falling snow. The tables around the edges of the room were covered with silver table cloths and small snowflakes. There was a live band playing at one end of the room in front of massive, floor to ceiling windows where more lights were hung. Some of the guests milled around, chatting, and enjoying the alcohol that floated around. Others were dancing. Sometimes one of the lights would catch on the snowflakes and would shine around the room, illuminating spinning dresses. 

Hannibal had just excused himself from a conversation when Will entered. As per the last time he saw him at a social event, Will's arm was locked with his mother's. His mother wore a silver ball gown with snowflakes braided into her dark hair. She wore gloves as she had before with a bracelet with a variety of charms on it. Will, on the other hand, wore a silver suit with a dark blue tie. He entered into another conversation with an old friend of his, who chided him for his lack of dinner parties. He idly thought back to the party he had met Will at, but there was a time when he had thrown more of them. She hadn't been able to make that particular party, but perhaps he would be in the mood to throw another if inspiration struck. 

Hannibal could see Will and his mother out of the corner of his eye. Or more accurately, Will, his mother, and another woman. She had dark brown hair, a bright red dress, and a cunning smile. She and Will greeted like old friends, embracing each other. He watched as Will smiled at something she said and he felt stir within him. His possessive side flared but he forced himself to return to his conversation and smile at the appropriate time. It wasn't long until his conversation was joined by another. 

Frances DuBois was quite an interesting woman to Hannibal. She always stood tall and dignified with an air of quiet power. Hannibal idly wondered if that power partially came from having a serial killer as a son. Would his mother have been like her as he grew up? Her sky-colored eyes followed every word of the conversation as she hovered silently at the edge, waiting to enter the conversation at the appropriate time. Hannibal turned to her when their current topic came to a natural lull. 

"Madame DuBois," He greeted offering his hand and placing hers to his lips when she offered her own. "Pleasant to see you this evening. And might I say you look stunning." 

"Charming as always," She answered with a smile. Her eyes flicked over him before she offered an approving smile. "I rather enjoy those who don't conform to the boring dress standards."

"Hannibal has always dressed extravagantly." Frances's eyes flashed with something Hannibal was almost certain was annoyance before her face became neutral and she turned to the other woman. They greeted each other. "How do you know Hannibal?" 

"I met him at one of his dinner parties. And my son works with Dr. Lecter."

"Oh!" Her eyes lit with intrigue. Hannibal was notoriously mysterious. He never let people know more about him than he wanted. "Is he a psychiatrist too?"

"No," Hannibal and Frances answered at the same time.

"He's a teacher at the FBI academy and a consultant with the Behavioral Science Unit in the FBI."

She nearly swooned. "And which do you work with?"

"The Behavioral Science Unit."

"How fascinating!" She looked between the two of them before focusing on Frances. "Is your son with you?"

"He is." Frances's eyes flicked to Hannibal for a moment before suddenly, Will appeared at her side. 

He offered her a glass of champagne. "Bonsoir." He greeted before turning to Hannibal. "Docteur." He practically purred. 

"Hello, Will." 

And everyone else faded away. There was only him and there was only Will. He could feel the eyes other the other two sliding back and forth between the two of them, both with different looks. His longtime friend, he could see, looked as though she had just found the world's most entertaining scandal. Will's mother, on the other hand, looked vaguely amused and slightly irritated. Will tore his gaze away, turning to Hannibal's friend and offering his hand. As Hannibal had done with his mother, he kissed the other's hand, offering a small smile. 

"I'm afraid I can't stay in this conversation for long. Margot is demanding a dance." He finished his champagne and placed it on one of the trays that went by, saying thank you as he did. "It was a pleasure meeting you." He turned to his mother. "I'll be back." His eyes flitted to Hannibal. "Docteur."

He removed himself from the conversation as quickly as he had come and Hannibal caught a glimpse of the same woman in red moving with him to the dance floor. 

"Speaking of dances," Frances said. "Would you mind terribly if I stole the good doctor here?"

"Oh please!" She flitted away.

Frances turned to him. "Care to dance?"

"How could I refuse?"

The two of them walked toward the dance floor, turning to face each other. They began to dance, moving across the floor with ease. She was obviously a skilled dancer, able to keep up with Hannibal and every move he made. 

"My son seems quite interested in you," Frances said after a moment, her voice low. "And you in him."

"He is interesting," Hannibal answered. 

"You're like him."

"In a way," Hannibal confirmed. "But also not." 

He spun her and she returned to his arms gracefully. "You're like him in one of the ways that matter."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow and she gave him a knowing look. He narrowed his eyes for a second, the realization dawning on him. Will's mother knew what he was. And that meant she knew what Hannibal was as well. He pursed his lips and she raised an eyebrow in return. 

"Did you think I wouldn't know that someone like him was in his life?" They were dancing at the edge of the floor, slightly away from everyone else. "It's dangerous for you two to be growing so close."

"I know." 

"And yet you want that closeness anyway." She spun again, this time returning with her back to his chest. "You both do."

They moved in sync. "There's a great gift in knowing someone closely."

"Will has said the same thing." He turned her once more and the song ended. She nodded her head approvingly at him. "You're a fabulous dancer."

"Thank you. As are you." He kissed her hand again before she made her way into the crowd, leaving him at the edge of the floor alone. 

He wasn't alone for long, though. Will had seemingly ended his dance with Margot before he appeared at Hannibal's side. He turned to face him, feeling himself trapped in his ocean-colored gaze. 

"Would you care to dance, Will?" He offered his hand. 

Will's eyes sparkled before he placed his hand in Hannibal's. Unlike his mother, Will's touch was electrifying. Will stepped closer, his arm other arm wrapping around Hannibal and their hands shifting. He wrapped his arm around the other, their bodies coming closer than they had ever been. He could feel the fabric of Will's silver suit and the muscles that flexed under it. He could feel Will's breath on his cheek as they pressed closer. The song began and they moved in sync with Hannibal leading. They moved around the floor, covering more area than he had with Will's mother. Will's eyes were locked with his and their grips on each other's hands tight. Once again, everyone else vanished around them. There was only him, and Will in his arms. He spun Will from his grasp before he returned, spinning them both so he was leading. Hannibal let him, falling into step with Will's lead. They moved through the dance floor as one song ended and another began. 

"We haven't had the chance to talk much recently," Will's voice was barely above a whisper and he was speaking in French. 

"No, we haven't." Hannibal agreed, answering in French.

"I hope my mother wasn't too hard on you."

"She knows about you." Will nodded. "And she knows about me." 

"Yes." 

"And she doesn't seem to mind." 

Will spun him and he returned, his back against Will's chest. He could feel Will's mouth move next to his ear. 

"How does that make you feel, Doctor?"

They danced still, Hannibal's back still pressed against Will's chest. 

"Curious," Hannibal answered honestly. 

"Me too," Will whispered.

He spun again and took back control of the dance. They moved together as the songs changed. He could feel the heat from Will's body seeping into his. He could feel their hands clenched together and Will's hand fisted in his suit jacket. He could feel the eyes that were moving to and from them, but mostly he could feel Will in his arms. Will's eyes were still focused on his, their bodies pressing together more and more until he could feel the other's heart in his chest. Eventually, the next song faded and the music stopped altogether. Hannibal detached himself Will as they turned to face the speaker who was moving onto the stage. He could feel, though, Will begin to move his way through the crowd and away from the party. Normally, Hannibal could consider it rude to leave when someone was about to give a speech, but this time he decided to follow Will. 

He found him standing at the edge of a doorway before he caught sight of Hannibal and moved through it. He was leading him somewhere and Hannibal was all too inclined to follow. He entered a dark, quiet area, standing under another door. Hannibal stepped closer and Will looked upward. Hannibal caught sight of the mistletoe hanging over the doorway and Will grinned at him mischievously. 

"Don't worry, Doctor." Will stepped out from under the doorway and closer to Hannibal. "I won't hold you to this tradition." 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. Will stepped closer to him. 

"Unless you want me to, _Ripper_?"


	10. Chapter 10

_Will watched the floor come close and further with every movement he made. He could see the fine lines of the wood as he lowered himself and his reflection shining in it. He mentally counted each movement, each one of his push-ups, until he reached 100. He pushed himself up, falling back on his legs and resting his glutes on his heels. He stared at the floor for a second, watching his handprints fade from the floor. He always tended to run hot and as a result, he would heat most things he touched. He reached next to him, grabbing the towel he placed on the bench. This house, in Baltimore, had a gym in the basement with wooden floors, several benches, two punching bags, several mats, and both freestanding and machine weights. He wiped the sweat from his face and his chest before wrapping the towel around his neck. He stood, brushing off the non-existent dust from his knees._

_He heard his mother's footsteps before she appeared and he turned to face her as she entered the room. He gripped either side of the towel as she stepped into the room. He was currently in only a pair of shorts while she was in a dress and heels. He raised his eyebrow in question as she stepped further into the room._

_"How are you feeling?" She asked._

_Will shrugged. His first kill was the night before. It was clumsy and painful and he didn't walk away unscathed. He had long scratch marks down his chest that stung when sweat ran over it. But he had walked away from the clumsy fight, the other did not. He had been very careful when he disposed of the body. It was unlikely it would ever be found. Or so he hoped anyway. It would be rather upsetting if he was caught now before his life truly began. In less than two weeks, he would be starting at George Washington University for his degree in forensic science. He and his mother had agreed that he would stay at home during the duration of his degree. Since D.C. wasn't that far away, it was easier to stay at the Baltimore house anyway. Or maybe the Richmond house. But either way, he was incredibly careful with his disposal of the body. He had to be careful to ensure he wasn't caught. His mother had drilled that into him since he was five and she first noted his various tendencies. Along with his empathy._

_"I'm all right." She raised an eyebrow, a silent demand for more. "Calmer." He said quietly, lowering his eyes. "Normally my mind is loud. Everything presses inward at all times. Except afterward."_

_She folded her hands in front of her and nodded. "You still have to be careful. You can't chase that feeling all that often."_

_"I know." He wiped his forehead again as sweat dripped from his hairline._

_"Does that hurt?" She nodded to his chest._

_"Only when I sweat."_

_She smirked and stepped further into the room, sitting gracefully on one of the benches._

_"What was it like?"_

_He sat on the bench behind him and took a drink from his water bottle, thinking all the while. "Are you asking because I'm your son or because you are genuinely curious?"_

_He could see the humor in her eyes at his question. "Both."_

_He set down the bottle and rested his elbows on his knees. "I followed him at first, learning his patterns and where he would go. When he was alone and when he wasn't. It felt a bit like hunting, what a predator must feel like as its watching its prey. I learned his schedule to the point that I could know exactly where he was at any given time." His mother nodded, she knew all of this already. Will's prey, his first kill was carefully chosen. He had met the man before, a man named Julian Ricard, at one of the many events he attended with his mother. Often times, his mother brought him with her to avoid unwanted advances of other men. Will was an excellent deterrent. But this man hadn't been deterred by Will's presence, especially when he learned that Will was his mother's son. He was brazen and overly touchy to the point that Will was certain his mother might take his life instead. He knew at that moment that Julian had signed his own death sentence. And Will was his executioner._

_"He was leaving another woman's house when I finally approached him. He recognized me." In truth, he hadn't just recognized Will. Just as he had been with Will's mother, the man was overly touchy, hugging and pulling Will closer until they were far enough away from prying eyes to tear them apart. "I managed to coax him into a quiet, empty area. He was more than willing to go. He didn't see what was coming for him until it was too late." Will could feel the way the man's jaw felt against his knuckles. He knew punching him was causing unnecessary damage that would be investigated if the body was ever found. But he hadn't cared at that moment. "My mind went blank after I decided. Nothing mattered. Not the world, not the prospect of being seen. It was like a drug. The kill was all I could think about." He dropped his head slightly. "He got in a shot at me, as you can see. I cleaned his nails before I disposed of the body, just in case." He had also burned his coat, knowing there was a chance that one of Will's hairs had transferred to it when he snapped his neck. "He fought, obviously. But something was intoxicating about knowing his life was in my hands. It was mine to let him keep. Or mine to take."_

_He blinked, returning to reality and no longer staring at one specific spot on the wooden floor. He was almost afraid to look up at his mother. Controlling his impulses and only letting them out at certain times was great in theory, but he didn't know how she would take it in practice. He risked glancing up at her, seeing her contemplative but accepting face._

_"Did it help?"_

_"Yes."_

_She nodded. "Good. That's good then." She stood and brushed off her dress. "Now come along. I'm certain between last night and the hour you've been down here you've had enough of a workout. Put a shirt on and join me for lunch."_

_Will smiled. "Of course, Mother."_

_He could see her smile before she turned and walked back up the stairs._

_A few weeks later, he joined her for another lunch after having started his classes. Only a few people he had gone to high school with had gone to the same university, but their majors were not the same as Will's. As a result, he was often alone, unable to connect. He assumed most people his age would have found it strange how easily he still connected with his mother, but she was the only person who had ever truly understood him or accepted him. Even when he only showed parts of himself to others. He had been accepted, only barely, but a couple of people for flings in high school that never went anywhere. But always they would vanish or distance themselves from him. His only real relationship that wasn't with his mother was with Margot. They had known each other since childhood, having both been forced to attend the lavish parties her father would throw. Mason had never been the biggest fan of Will and the feeling was mutual, but he and Margot always seemed to find each other. Margot also attended George Washington University so most of the time he spent on campus was spent with her. While Will focused on forensic science, she focused on business hoping to one day be included in her father's empire. But Molson Verger had favored his son since they were children, teaching him rather than Margot, no matter how hard she worked. Part of Margot's bitterness toward her father stemmed from the fact that she was certain he excluded her because of her sexuality._

_He never had that risk with his mother. Naturally, that meant he could have incredibly strange conversations with her without fear of judgment._

_Will took a bite of his meal, something that included pork, chewing it slowly before swallowing. His mother's eyes were on him, sensing the question lingering at the tip of his tongue. She looked at him expectantly._

_"What do you suppose is the appeal of cannibalism?"_

_She took another bite, her face becoming contemplative. "I'm not quite certain. I've never truly thought about it."_

_"I would think it would be an act of dominance," Will said after another bite._

_"Perhaps. Though you will remember from your studies that some cultures see cannibalism as a way to honor the dead."_

_"Or necessary for survival," Will added._

_"Very good." His mother smiled her approval. "But in truth, I don't quite know the appeal of cannibalism outside of those instances. I've never had human before." She cocked her head at him for a moment. "You're curious, aren't you?"_

_He shrugged in response._

_"Perhaps from your next kill you could see for yourself." He raised an eyebrow at her in question. In response, she picked up another bite of pork on her fork and turned it as though she were examining a specimen. "You can never know until you try something."_

* * *

Will watched Hannibal's pupils widen just barely in the darkness of the corner he knew would be empty. He also knew there would be mistletoe hung throughout the building as the organizers of the party did the same thing every year. He had managed a few flings from coaxing people under the mistletoe. Men, women, another gender. It didn't matter. He had left with someone new from these parties for the last three years. But this time he didn't want someone new. He didn't know exactly what propelled him to coax Hannibal this time, not that he hadn't thought about it before. Maybe it was the electricity between them during their dance. Maybe it was the way his eyes never left Will's. Or maybe it was the fact that Hannibal knew who he was and had still followed him anyway. 

It was the first time he had ever acknowledged what either of them was, the first time he had called Hannibal by his alter ego. He hadn't even called Hannibal by his name to his face, it was always Doctor. There was a certain appeal to constantly using the man's title. Will, however, didn't have that title or a name to his alter ego. He had been careful over the years, perfecting his disposal so that there was never a body found. Except once. One time, he had left the body for others to find. For Hannibal to find. And Hannibal's response was intoxicating. Hannibal was intoxicating.

They had only seen each other here and there over the last month, but Will was more certain that the only other time his mind might truly be silent besides a kill was when Hannibal Lecter was roaming around inside it. He hadn't yet shown him everything, hadn't yet taken any of a few steps that would draw them any closer to each other. But he knew just as Hannibal had firmly cemented his place in Will's mind, he had cemented his place in Hannibal's. 

"I'm not one to deny tradition," Hannibal said. Will smirked. The answer wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. But both knew, and he wasn't certain how he knew, that neither would do anything without the other's explicit consent. And perhaps Hannibal didn't want to bridge that part of their relationship. Which Will would respect.

He stepped further away from the mistletoe until he was close to Hannibal. "I know." He could still feel the heat of Hannibal's hand in his own. He could feel everywhere Hannibal had pressed against him, as though the touch was seared into his skin. He idly wondered when he returned home if he would find burn marks where Hannibal had touched him. Perhaps the other would find it exciting to have him physically marked. 

The air between them was charged as Hannibal's head turned slightly so their eyes could meet once again. He had been waiting for this day, the day he could make Hannibal focus his attentions on Will more. Hannibal had been true to his word, not killing Abigail's friend Marissa. The act would likely have started a series of events that left Abigail indebted to Hannibal. But he didn't want her to owe debts to anyone. Not to Hannibal and certainly not to him. He would stay in her life as long as she let him, but his relationship was meant to be more of a guide or mentor. Someone eventually she could live without. He was not her parent, and neither was Hannibal. 

But it had seemed his plan had worked. Keeping his distance from Hannibal had been difficult. But it had been enough to keep the man intrigued. And now Hannibal was focused completely on him. He had seen the man's face flash with jealousy when Margot greeted him at the beginning of the night. It was almost imperceptible, but Will knew what to look for. The downside was that he had not only made Hannibal's want for him worse, but it had also made his own worse. Perhaps there was nothing between them except curiosity. Perhaps this current intensity was due to nothing more than their shared inclinations and heightened emotions. Perhaps-

Hannibal stepped closer to him. And Will didn't move away. He felt his lips part slightly, exhaling slowly from his mouth.

Perhaps there was something. Something just as primal as their shared need to kill. Something just as primal as they knew they could be. 

Hannibal stepped slightly closer. And Will stepped back. Hannibal stepped closer again. He stepped back. Hannibal stepped closer again. And Will stepped back a third time. He knew exactly where he was in the room. He knew one more step would place him firmly under the mistletoe and Hannibal along with him. But instead of stepping again, Hannibal reached for his hip and pulled him closer. He didn't hold onto him, but Will knew he wanted him right where he let him go.

"Are you certain this is a game you want to play?"

"Are you?"

"I'm always certain. Except with you." Hannibal's hand twitched slightly at his side, a movement Will could see out of the corner of his eye. "I find myself unable to predict you. You have a strange way of surprising me."

"And you surprise me," Will whispered.

It was annoyingly true. He was certain Hannibal wouldn't keep to their silent agreement. He was certain Abigail would hear more from him. But as the days wore on and Marissa Schurr lived, he began to wonder if Abigail wasn't Hannibal's intended target. If it was, in fact, Will himself. And if that was the case, they were already trapped in each other.

His mother had warned him, again, about his continued interest in Hannibal Lecter. After his lunch with Hannibal, he had told his mother he was certain that Hannibal was the Ripper. His mother, much like he, had been interested in the Ripper cases from afar. When Will had been asked to consult on the Ripper case two years ago, he had relayed any information he had found to his mother, knowing she would be curious. But knowing Hannibal Lecter, the man Will was surely gaining an increasing interest in, was the Chesapeake Ripper made her hesitate. She was still fascinated with the Ripper, Will could tell. But he could also tell that she did not approve of their continued relationship and how increasingly intimate it was becoming. He knew she would have something to say after their dance. That was if he went home with her. And he knew he should. Hannibal wasn't a fling, at least not to Will. If they were going to start another level to their relationship, he wouldn't have it starting in a heated moment after an already all too heated danced. And it seemed Hannibal felt something similar. Both of them were planners, both of them needed control. Any relationship between the two of them would breach their realm of control.

Which was why Hannibal was asking if he was certain he wanted to start something else between them. 

Will could feel his heart begin to thud in his chest. He never lost control of his heartrate. Not when a new case came from Jack and part of him wondered if it was his bodies that he would be investigating. Not when he killed. Not even when he had attempted relationships with others. 

He searched Hannibal's eyes, just as Hannibal searched his. Both looking for uncertainty, or maybe absolute certainty. Anything they started would be dangerous. It was dangerous to love dangerous people. And both of them were incredibly dangerous. Will had likely met the only other person as dangerous as himself. And it was exciting. He was excited by it. 

Both stepped away from each other at the same time, Will making certain he didn't step far enough to find himself under the mistletoe once again. 

It wasn't exactly a denial, it wasn't exactly a rejection. But both knew that neither was entirely certain. 

In his mind, however, the image that he had been building of Hannibal Lecter was taking on a form that more resembled the man across from him. The man that was as much a man as he was a monster. Just like Will. 

"Bonsoir, Docteur."

"Labas vakaras, Will." 

He kept the shiver at the Lithuanian flowing easily from Hannibal's tongue from overtaking him. Instead, he stepped around him, letting their hands brush lightly. 

He went home alone that night. 


	11. Chapter 11

"I need you to work more on a profile for the Chesapeake Ripper," Jack said, cutting off every thought that was currently running circles in Will's mind. 

_Male._ "Why? What's going on Jack?" _Six feet tall. Amber eyes. Sharp, high cheekbones._

"It will be better if I show you." Jack gestured for him to follow.

_Lithuanian._ _Beautiful._

Will followed Jack to his SUV.

_But also male. 5 foot eleven. Dark curly hair. Blue eyes._

The drive was made in complete silence and it was driving Will insane.

_Sitting next to Jack Crawford while he thinks the Ripper is someone else._

And to an extent it was true. The Ripper from two years ago was, truly, one man. 

Will didn't know where they were going, but if he had to guess, another body was dropped. He knew it was risky to have made his last body look like the Ripper. It had started a frenzy, both in the media, or rather with Freddie Lounds, and in the FBI, that the Ripper was still around and still killing. He knew Hannibal could take care of himself, but perhaps he had been slightly impulsive with how he had proved his theory. Even if it wasn't his victim specifically that had made Jack start down the Ripper trail once again, he certainly hadn't helped the situation. The drive was agonizingly long in the silence until they arrived at a scene. He knew the area the moment he saw it. He had left his body not too far from here though his present had been left in the woods. This body, however, seemed to be housed inside the observatory. Beverly, Price, and Zeller had made arrived before Will and Jack had. There was already a police line holding back a sea of people. 

Will followed Jack into the observatory, careful not to look at any of the gathering crowd knowing that Freddie Lounds was likely among them. Freddie had been releasing more and more dramatic articles on her blog about Will and Hannibal's potential relationship. While she wasn't exactly wrong, he knew that anything that was proven true could call into question any investigations Will and Hannibal did together. He would have to be good. Or rid the world of Freddie Lounds altogether. He admitted it was a tempting thought. But one that would he would have to be careful. Even if Freddie didn't have a high profile she was still well-known. People would notice when she vanished. Will was so focused on the possibility of ridding the world of Freddie Lounds, he didn't even notice Jack had come to a stop until he almost ran into him. 

He stopped just inches from Jack's shoulder, looking beyond him at the body carefully laid out under the massive telescope. The body was placed as though the man were looking through it. Will cocked his head at the sight. The man's face was frozen in terror, as though he were petrified in his final state. But that wasn't exactly what piqued Will's interest. There were bruises around his neck, suggesting he had been strangled. But his neck was also twisted at an awkward angle, suggesting it had been broken. He would have to wait for an autopsy to know if the break or the strangulation was the cause of death. However, what bothered Will the most was how similar it was to his own kills. 

He had always favored kills with his hands, taking someone else apart with nothing between them. Feeling their life in his grasp to leave or take as he saw fit. If he had to guess, he assumed the autopsy would reveal elevated levels of cortisol and glucocorticoids. Responses to stress and fear. If this body was left purposefully to look like Will had done the deed. But Will hadn't been the perpetrator behind this death. This wasn't one of his. He walked closer to the body, seeing its meticulous placement, with hands resting carefully on the armrests of the chair. Beverly moved slightly as he circled around the body and it was only as he saw the front of the body that he understood. The victim's chest looked like it had been ripped open and the heart was taken from the chest cavity. 

He knelt, trying to keep his face as blank as possible. He knew who had killed this man, and just like Will had done before, this was done in homage to another killer. Only this time, the killer was him. This was for him. 

_Hannibal._

"This isn't like any of the Ripper's other kills," Jack said, walking around the body to stand at his side. "But it's equally as brutal." 

"If I had to guess," Beverly began, standing at Will's other side. "It would say the chest was ripped open by someone's hands." She stepped closer to the body and gestured to the edges of the cavity where the heart once was. "See these are uneven. If someone had used tools to do this, this wouldn't be as jagged."

"Only the heart is missing?" Will asked.

"That's the only organ it seems our killer went after. There are no cuts anywhere else on the body. Nothing to suggest anything but the heart was taken."

"Why take the heart?" Jack asked.

"He's talking to someone." _To me._

"What's he saying?"

Will swallowed thickly and then forced himself to shake his head. "I don't know." He lied. 

"Is it the Ripper?" 

Thoughts warred in Will's mind. One on hand, saying it wasn't the Ripper could potentially lead the investigation to point in his direction. Especially if any other bodies turned up with Will's preferred method of killing. But saying it was the Ripper could eventually lead them to Hannibal. Strictly speaking, saying it was or wasn't the Ripper would be true in either sense. This wasn't Hannibal's alter ego who made this. It was Hannibal himself. But Hannibal Lecter and the Chesapeake Ripper were one and the same. Either way, he could bend the truth to fit his narrative and idly he wondered if this was what Freddie Lounds thought about before she unleashed a story on the world. 

"Yes."

* * *

Two days after Hannibal left the body for the FBI and Will to find, another body appeared. Hannibal didn't find out about the body from the FBI asking him to consult. Instead, he found out from Will Graham and Freddie Lounds. He had set up an alert to notify him whenever Freddie Lounds released another article. It was quite entertaining to read them, and all of Freddie's rather dramatic speculations. After his last body, there had been an article about the Ripper's removal of the heart. Freddie went on to speculate that it was because the Ripper was in love. Hannibal wouldn't exactly say he was in love, but he would certainly say something in him was build that direction. Freddie's article then went on to speculate why Will was without his "psychiatrist handler" and that perhaps it was the FBI's way of quelling any rumors as to the nature of the relationship between Will and Hannibal. But that only served to ramp up Freddie's speculation.

The next article, however, was about a victim that looked entirely like something he could have created. He didn't know how Will managed to stage the body as he did, but it was quite a feat. He also didn't know how Will knew his enjoyment of the work of Sandro Botticelli. The body was posed exactly like St. Sebastian in Botticelli's painting of _St. Sebastian_. The body was carefully pressed against the trunk of a tree. His feet were carefully pressed against the cut off of branches. His hands were tied behind the trunk. A series of arrows penetrated the man's skin, exactly where they had been in Botticelli's painting. But much like the body he had left for Will, the heart was missing from this one. 

Hannibal knew as much, though. He had woken in the morning, finding the heart cleaned and wrapped in a ribbon in his refrigerator. How Will had managed to enter his house without his knowledge, he didn't know. But he found it incredibly enticing. Especially now that he was at his table, enjoying his breakfast and reading the rather dramatic article of Freddie Lounds. Again, she speculated about the taking of the heart once more. He wondered, given the extreme stretching of the truth Freddie was already capable of, if she would connect the fact that the Chesapeake Ripper, or the murders attributed to the Ripper now, was not done by one person but, in fact, two. 

He was guessing when he replicated the style that he assumed belonged to Will Graham. From everything he had learned about the man, he assumed he would be just as tactile in his impulses as he was with Hannibal. And only Hannibal. Of course, he had seen Will touch others. He and his mother always appeared at parties arm in arm and he had hugged Margot. But Hannibal could still feel the burn of Will's near touch on the back of his hand even two weeks later. He could feel his knuckles run over his skin, and the feel of skin sliding over skin. Given Will's tactile tendencies with Hannibal, he knew it was likely he was equally as tactile in his darker impulses. He knew Will would likely have corrected him if he were wrong. But instead, he was given another piece of art. Will hadn't corrected him, he had acknowledged him once again, even taking the heart to give to Hannibal, placing it right next to the other heart already in his refrigerator.

Hannibal sipped his coffee as his eyes trailed over the article Freddie had already posted on _Tattlecrime_. It appeared she had found her way to the crime scene before any of the police or investigators as the picture of the body lacked the usual crime scene tape of typical crime scene photos. Hannibal neared the end of the article, finding his own idea written in Freddie's artful language. 

He set down his cup of coffee as his phone began to ring.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Lecter," Jack greeted. "I assume you already saw the article by Freddie Lounds."

"That would be an accurate assumption, Jack."

"I hope it wouldn't be too much trouble to ask you to come in on this case." Jack paused. "To help Will."

"No trouble. I'll be there soon."

* * *

> _**The Ripper in Love?** _
> 
> _Avid readers, over the last month we have been following a rapid succession of bodies likely left by the notorious killer known as the Chesapeake Ripper. In that time, we have not only seen notoriously unstable Special Agent Will Graham enter the case, but also his psychiatrist handler, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. As I have stated before, there seems to be a connection between the two men that breaches doctor-patient relationships. And now, dear readers, we have seen the Ripper continue to take hearts from his victims. Not just Elias March, who was left in the observatory for the FBI to find, but also Richard Alcott, the Ripper's latest victim._
> 
> _Richard Alcott was a loving father of two who went missing the night before last. He was found posed in the early hours of the morning in a manner similar to a painting done by Renaissance Painter, Sandro Botticelli. The body resembled Botticelli's painting_ St. Sebastian _. Why the Ripper chose poor Mr. Alcott, we may never know._
> 
> _But alas, love seems to be in the air dear readers. The heart is the organ most often associated with love and has been taken from not one, but two previous victims of the Chesapeake Ripper. Is the Ripper in love after all? Or is the Ripper more than one person? Are we, in fact, witnessing the Ripper show his love for his partner-in-crime? At the same time, the relationship between Special Agent Will Graham and his psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter seems to be developing a romantic tone, if their last interaction at a crime scene is to be taken seriously. Perhaps, does it take a pair in love to catch a pair in love? Does it take someone insane to catch someone equally as insane? Perhaps, dear readers, are we seeing what happens when love is pitted against the only other force as powerful as it? Love._


	12. Chapter 12

Hannibal stepped out of his car, looking up at the looming FBI building. Where he anyone else, he might be afraid to step into the building that housed the ongoing investigation into his alter ego. But this building also housed Will Graham, who had seemingly taken it upon himself to adopt the Ripper persona to earn Hannibal's attention. Hannibal thought about telling him that he needn't go to such extremes to have Hannibal's attention, he already had it. But seeing Will's creative side come out in his darker impulses was far more entertaining than telling him to stop ever would be. In fact, letting Will have his free reign was part of what enticed Hannibal the most. Unlike some, Will Graham was not something to be tamed. He was not something to be caged or "handled." Will was too magnificent to cage. Too beautiful to be tamed. He idly wondered if Will thought the same about him. Will's art didn't leave anything pointing in Hannibal's direction, though it could have. But he seemed to be following a similar thought process as Hannibal. 

He already knew his way to Jack's office as he entered the building, having memorized it once before. But he didn't find himself in Jack's office. Along the way, Will found him, moving in step with him and gently guiding him as he went. He found himself in a lab surrounded by the same team Hannibal had met only once before. The three of them looked up simultaneously as Will and Hannibal walked in before two of them turned to something else. The third, Beverly Katz, Hannibal remembered, found her entertainment in the form of the two men entering the room. 

"Well if it isn't the lovebirds." She said with a large grin. 

"You read too much Freddie Lounds," Will answered. 

"How can I not?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "It's so _scandalous._ " Will smirked but didn't say any more on the topic. "Her articles have much more to say than these bodies anyway." She gestured to the body she was currently hovering over. This one was Hannibal's victim. "Cause of death is strangulation. The broken neck was done post mortem." She gestured to the rather unseemly hole Hannibal had left in the man's chest. "Based on ligature and patterns found around the wound, the first incision was likely surgical and then," She mimicked the movement of pulling something apart with her hands. "His chest was literally torn open. The removal of his heart, however, was surgical again." 

"So, we're looking for a werewolf." One of the men said, suddenly at Hannibal's other shoulder.

"Where was the last werewolf myth you read of one cutting someone open to steal their hearts?" The other man asked. Hannibal assumed that the one directly next to him was Brian Zeller and the man on his other side was Jimmy Price. 

"But you admit that heart stealing is common in werewolf folklore." 

"The taking of human parts is common in quite a few folklores," Will said from Hannibal's other side. He stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at the body. "Most related to cannibalism in some form or another." 

Hannibal felt himself turning to look at Will. "You think the Ripper is a cannibal?"

Will shook his head. "The Ripper doesn't seem himself as a cannibal." Then he sighed. "But there's no guarantee he's even eating anything he's taking from his victims."

"Wasn't Garret Jacob Hobbs a cannibal?" Beverly asked. 

Will gave a half-hearted shrug. "Yes and no. He ate his victims to honor them. To him, it wasn't cannibalism either."

"If the Ripper was eating the organs he took from his victims," Another voice joined them and Hannibal looked past Will to see Jack entering the room. "Why would he do it?"

Will rolled his shoulders and lifted his head up slowly, his eyes meeting Hannibal's. "What is the pathology of cannibalism?"

Hannibal refrained from smirking, knowing it wouldn't help him at the moment. "I suppose it would depend. Each case is unique, as would be the intention behind cannibalism."

"What would you say for the Ripper?" Jack asked, stepping further into the room. 

"Dominance," Hannibal answered honestly. 

Jack nodded and Will's eyes narrowed at him. He focused on Will once more.

"The Ripper sees his victims as pigs," Will said, addressing Jack but his attention was on Hannibal. "If he is eating them, it isn't cannibalism." 

Jack nodded and crossed his arms, staring at the body on the table. 

"What about the other one?" Will asked as if he hadn't been responsible for the other body. 

"Ah," Beverly said, turning her attention to the other man. This was the first time Hannibal was seeing the body up close, and it was all the more evident that Will's artistic side could potentially rival his own.

The arrow wounds were perfect circles, placed strategically to avoid any major veins or arteries. Much like Hannibal's victim, the incision on the chest was done with near surgical accuracy, which was quite impressive to Hannibal. As far as he knew, Will didn't have the same surgical background he did. And yet he still had the same finesse with his kills that Hannibal praised in his own. There was no blood found in the body, which made Hannibal wonder if Will had drained it all, and how. He examined the body closer to see incisions in the wrists, which were not visible in Freddie's picture, and small incisions next to the clavicle which were likely initially covered by the arrow. He wondered what Will had done with all that blood. There were about 1.5 gallons of blood in the human body, it wasn't something someone would normally keep lying around. He looked forward to whatever Will would put on display next that would likely use all that blood. 

"This man died from blood loss. But what happened to the blood, I have no idea." Beverly gestured to the wounds in his wrists and chest. "It was likely he was carefully drained. Not a single drop was found in or on the body. The heart was surgically removed from this body as well."

"I amend my earlier statement," Zeller said. "We're looking for a vampire." 

"This isn't a mythical creature," Jack sighed. "This is someone quite human." 

He could see Will's struggle at keeping his face neutral, though to others it would look like his thoughts were materializing on his face. But Hannibal knew he was refraining from smirking at the assessment. Will stepped away from the body and heaved a sigh. 

"Is it still hard for you to look?" Hannibal heard Jack ask lowly. Will nodded. 

Jack's eyes shot to Hannibal and he saw the silent plea. Hannibal nodded and the two of them left the room without saying anything else. Will lead him to an office and shut the door behind him, sighing as he did. Hannibal took off his overcoat and set it down on the chair nearest to him, looking around the room. It was incredibly plain, nothing to suggest it belonged to Will or to anyone else.

"It's a shared office," Will said, coming to his side. "I technically have one for my teaching, all instructors do. But this one is for consultants. This is where they'll expect me to go." 

"Jack thinks you fragile," Hannibal said. 

"I know." 

"How do you suppose he would react if he found you were quite unbreakable?"

"I doubt he would think there is a need for you anymore." Will's voice was barely above a whisper.

"And how would that make you feel?" Hannibal turned just slightly, seeing Will hovering at his shoulder. Will stepped closer until Hannibal's back was almost touching his chest. His lips were near Hannibal's ear, so close that Hannibal could feel his breath.

"Bored."

Hannibal barely controlled the shutter than ran through him. But what he didn't manage to control, he knew Will saw. The other smirked slightly and stepped back, putting physical distance between them in a way that rarely seemed to work. Hannibal turned to see him fully, watching him lean against one of the desks in the room. His hands were placed firmly on either side of his hips. He exhaled slowly, his eyes glued to Hannibal. Part of him wondered if the door had a lock on it. There were windows, but they were tinted in just a way that it would be hard to see anything inside if the lights were off. He found himself faced with the same question he was constantly faced when he and Will found themselves alone. He could take him. He could kill him. He could walk away and continue their game. Overall, it came down to a game of risks. Was he willing to let Will be free out and about without any interference from Hannibal? Already, their game had been amplified to an extreme that Hannibal was more than comfortable with. And that was without any interference from Hannibal. He didn't want to control Will, but he had to admit that there was a small degree of excitement in wondering what would happen if their relationship changed, just slightly. But with their game currently, it meant the extreme came with risks. While Will hadn't pointed the FBI in his direction, it would take very little to do so. Or for Hannibal to do the same. 

What to do?

He knew the same thoughts were roaming through Will's mind. And how could they not? Both of them were as alike as they were different, but both knew that the other came with risks. Always a risk. It was a risk to be so close to someone so dangerous, a risk to enter into a relationship of any kind with someone dangerous. Will's mother might be safe because of her relationship, but there was a reason interactions between killers were often ships passing in the night. They were dangerous to each other. He was dangerous to Will and Will was dangerous to him. And yet, Will had left the same message for Hannibal that Hannibal had left for him. They had both stolen hearts from others and while he had yet to offer the heart he stole to Will, Will had already offered, the one he took to Hannibal. 

"Would you like to come over for dinner tonight, Will?" 

"Yes." The answer was breathy and seemed to come from Will's core. 

He already knew what he would serve. He hoped Will's palate was as expanded as it seemed.

* * *

A week after he and Hannibal left their bodies for each other, he found himself at Abigail's facility once again. She looked relieved when he entered the room. But the moment the relief subsided, a question was evident on her face. She looked him over and Will felt himself smile. He was dressed in a pair of dress slacks and a tucked-in shirt, rather than his normal dressier attired. Just as before, he had a plan upon coming. He could see recognition behind her eyes and his smile widened. She was quite intelligent, much more than people likely gave her credit for. 

"Finished your homework?" Will asked lightly as the nurse left the room. 

"What are you planning?" She asked, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed. 

Will opened his mouth to answer when the door opened once more. He turned to see who was entering only to meet Hannibal's amber gaze. 

"Great minds," He said with a smirk, which was mirrored by Hannibal. He turned back to Abigail. "Dress comfortably but nice." He turned to Hannibal once again. "You're welcome to join us." The implication in his words was not subtle, but he knew Hannibal caught it. Abigail wasn't going to be left alone with Hannibal. He nodded to her before ushering Hannibal from the room.

Hannibal stood next to Will just outside the building. The sun was setting in the distance, lighting the world on fire. He turned to the other, seeing his eyes in the evening sun. They changed from amber to crimson. Will was glad for his restraint because part of him wanted to jump Hannibal's bones the moment the setting sunlight hit his eyes. Hannibal's eyes were locked with his and both of them took a step forward at the same time. Will was lucky, though, that the sunlight lit up more than just Hannibal's eyes, but also the bright red hair of Freddie Lounds. He didn't catch her in time though, as she was already lowering her camera when Will turned to face her. 

"Freddie," Will greeted. "Did you get what you came for?"

Freddie smirked and Will could feel Hannibal's attention to turn her as well. He wanted to indicate to Hannibal in some way that anything they said to Freddie would likely end up in her newest article, though he knew that anyway. Abigail left walked out of the door, her eyes narrowing at Freddie and Will couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. He nodded to her and bid a quiet goodbye to Freddie. Abigail walked toward him and Will turned to Hannibal, ignoring Freddie. 

"Riding with us or taking your own car?"

"I assume you'll be returning here," He nodded to Abigail. "Perhaps it would be advantageous to save on gas."

Will refrained from smirking. He turned to Abigail and the two of them moved in sync, Will opening the door for her to enter the car. Hannibal sat in the passenger seat and Will nodded to Freddie before entering the car for himself. He barely started the car and pulled on his seatbelt, driving without checking to make certain his passengers were belted in. He rolled his shoulders, letting his annoyance at Freddie fade away. It was replaced by his amusement at how out of place he knew Hannibal would be. Abigail was dressed in a pair of nice, black pants and a sweater. Unlike them, Hannibal was dressed in a grey three-piece suit and a blue paisley tie. 

The drive was half an hour, somewhere between Wolf Trap and Abigail's temporary home. They arrived at the dive bar, and he glanced at Hannibal. The other didn't outwardly react at the sight, but it was oddly endearing to see Hannibal so far out of his element. Abigail looked over at the bar and then gave Will a questioning raise of an eyebrow. He pulled a fake ID from his pocket and handed it to her with a wink. 

"I'll want that back when the night's over." He whispered and she smiled. 

"You're not a good influence." She said with a smile. 

"Where is it written that I would be?" 

Loud music emanated from the bar as the three of them walked closer. Hannibal had chosen to leave his overcoat in the car and the three of them approached, shoulder to shoulder. 

"There were a lot of places like this in New Orleans," Will said quietly. "I miss that sometimes." He looked over Abigail. "If you want, I can take you there for Mardi Gras one year." 

"I would love that," She answered with a grin. "I've always wanted to go."

He smiled. "We'll wait until you're 21 though." He turned to Hannibal. "You too, of course."

Hannibal's look told him his invitation was already extended and accepted before Will said anything. Will entered the bar first with Abigail on his heals and Hannibal following them. Will had purposefully picked the bar, not for the alcohol thought that was a plus, but for dancing. There were several people already on the floor, dancing and laughing. They were carded entering the door. He was glad for his foresight with the fake ID. He wasn't truly going to take it back. He had it made so Abigail could escape her life as Abigail Hobbs, daughter of the Minnesota Shrike. He couldn't help but notice Hannibal's amusement at the place. For being a dive bar, the place was surprisingly nice. It was dark inside, lit by dim lights on the walls and multicolored lights behind the car. The ceiling was low and there were various poles that people had to navigate around. There was bouncer outside who recognized Will from the few times he had been there before along with the bartender who waved when he entered. 

"You've brought guests this time." She said as Will approached.

"Well, it's pathetic always coming here to drink alone." He said with a sly smile, seeing her smirk in response. He had never drunk alone when coming to the bar. It was easy to find someone to drink with him, even if it was just the bartender when her shift ended. 

Her eyes shifted to Abigail, offering a smile and then to Hannibal who earned a more appraising look. Will wanted to smirk. 

"What can I getcha?" She asked. 

Abigail looked at him overwhelmed. But he already had ideas. He ordered for himself and her, opening a tab and then looking at Hannibal. 

"I'm not quite certain you'll find wine here." He teased. 

Hannibal smirked before surprising him by ordering the same thing Will did. Will winked at the bartender before leading the other two to a table in the corner, just off the dance floor. In total, they had six drinks between them, most of which was water. Will looked over to the other side of the dance floor where the currently occupied pool table was. He knew eventually it would open up, and part of him knew that between him and Hannibal, they could easily claim the table if they wanted. Most people that came to this particular bar were good people though. He took a sip of his drink when the song changed and he heard the distinct opening drums and guitar of a familiar song. He looked over to Abigail.

"Come dance." He said, offering her his hand. 

She flushed slightly. "I don't-"

He smiled and stood. "It'll be fun." 

She relented easily and he pulled her onto the dance floor after him. "Relax." He said.

_The warden threw a party in the county jail_  
_The prison band was there and they began to wail_

She covered her face with one hand as he winked. He could see the redness of her face even in the dim light.

_The band was jumpin' and the joint began to swing_  
_You should've heard them knocked-out jailbirds sing_

He guided her at first, her hand clenching his almost a little too tightly.

_Let's rock everybody, let's rock_  
_Everybody in the whole cell block_

As the song went on, she relaxed a bit, laughing when Will spun her.

_Was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock_

He smiled as her movements became more earnest.

_Spider Murphy played the tenor saxophone_  
_Little Joe was blowin' on the slide trombone_

He could see Hannibal's soft smile out of the corner of his eye where he was, still sitting at the table. His hand was wrapped around his drink, his thumb moving down over the glass absentmindedly, but his focus was on Will.

_The drummer boy from Illinois went crash, boom, bang_  
_The whole rhythm section was the Purple Gang_

He spun Abigail again, hearing her laugh in earnest when she spun back into him.

_Let's rock everybody, let's rock_  
_Everybody in the whole cell block_  
_Was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock_

He hadn't danced just to dance since his university days. Many long nights and various partners with copious amounts of alcohol that shaded the whole experience. He forgot how fun it could be. And fun. What a concept. 

_Number forty-seven said to number three_  
_"You're the cutest jailbird I ever did see_  
_I sure would be delighted with your company_  
_Come on and do the Jailhouse Rock with me"_

Abigail practically fell as she spun into him again, but she was laughing the whole way. 

_Let's rock everybody, let's rock_  
_Everybody in the whole cell block_  
_Was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock_

He couldn't help but enjoy the irony of the song playing. Two murderers and a former lure in a setting none of them would normally be found in together.

_Sad sack was sittin' on a block of stone_  
_Way over in the corner weepin' all alone_  
_The warden said, "Hey, buddy, don't you be no square_  
_If you can't find a partner, use a wooden chair"_

Abigail spun him and he let her, having to duck to make it under her arm. He could see Hannibal smirk slightly at the movement.

_Let's rock everybody, let's rock_  
_Everybody in the whole cell block_  
_Was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock_

Will practically picked Abigail up to spin them both, hearing her laugher in his ear.

_Shifty Henry said to Bugs, "For Heaven's sake_  
_No one's lookin' now's our chance to make a break"_  
_Bugsy turned to Shifty and he said, "Nix, Nix_  
_I want to stick around a while and get my kicks"_

His gaze flicked from Abigail to Hannibal and he felt something within him flip at the intensity of the other's gaze.

_Let's rock everybody, let's rock_  
_Everybody in the whole cell block_  
_Was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock_

Abigail was practically giddy.

_Dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock_

Will thought back to the dance before Christmas.

_Dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock_

He thought about how close Hannibal had been then.

_Dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock_

He thought about how Hannibal followed him from the room.

_Dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock_

He thought about how close they had come, almost under the mistletoe.

_Dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock_

_Fuck._

The song came to an end and he and Abigail returned to the table. Hannibal looked amused as they sat. Will could feel the heat of the bar, and the heat he generated from dancing. Abigail was all grins and Will could see the ghost she carried with her fade away for the moment. When the pool table opened, they migrated toward it. They played two rounds. Will didn't drink as much as he knew he could, knowing he would have to make several long drives. He watched as Abigail played a game against Hannibal, who of course was great at pool. The next game was played between Abigail and another frequent visitor to the bar. Hannibal walked over to Will and offered him his hand. Again he thought back to the last dance between them before he was pulled onto the dance floor once again.

This song was slower than "Jailhouse Rock" and he was pulled into Hannibal's arms. Their hands linked together as they had before, with Hannibal's hand pressed against his lower back. He gripped Hannibal's shoulder, their bodies pressed together. The dance was far less dramatic and formal than their previous dance, mostly comprised of slow swaying. Once again, he found himself trapped in Hannibal's eyes. He felt his hand subconsciously tighten on Hannibal's arm. 

Hannibal's hand fisted in the shirt at his lumbar spine. 

The music faded away around them. The other people faded away around them. He gave Abigail a glance, but she was focused on the game she was currently winning. 

His eyes refocused on Hannibal. He felt Hannibal let out a breath which ghosted along his cheek. 

He could hear a voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother's in the back of his mind warning him about the dangers of any further steps in his relationship with Hannibal. 

_Fuck._

He felt himself leaning forward slightly, his tongue running over his somehow incredibly dry lips. Hannibal's eyes dropped to the movement, mirroring it. He swallowed thickly, the two of them having nearly stopped their dance. Hannibal's head tilted just slightly, his hair falling over his brow. His hand fell away from Hannibal's and the other's now free hand came to his face, pressing gently against his cheek. He was going to lose circulation in his hand from how tightly he was gripping the clothes at Hannibal's shoulder. His free hand found its way to Hannibal's hip. 

Hannibal sighed slightly, and just like that, the bubble around them was broken. He searched the other's eyes, finding the message within them.

_Not here._

He cleared his throat and stepped away. They finished their drinks and Abigail finished her game before he drove them back to her temporary home, depositing them in their appropriate places before returning to his own home for the night.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you guys hate the teasing BUT would it be as good a kiss when it actually happens if it wasn't built up beforehand?

Will pushed his laptop away in disgust. 

"Please tell me why I haven't killed Freddie Lounds yet."

His mother looked up at him from the other side of the table. He turned the laptop and pushed it toward her. He already knew what was there, he knew it would be there before he even decided to look at _Tattlecrime_. He admired the picture though, how both of him and Hannibal looked like they were enveloped in fire from the setting sun. Like the previous picture Freddie had managed to capture of them, they were standing incredibly close, eyes locked with each other's and posture indicating that nothing around them mattered but the other. The article went on to detail Freddie's thoughts that their closeness would make catching the Ripper impossible. After all, how could one focus on the job when they were too busy wanting their fellow consultant, or in Will's case his "handler." He watched his mother's eyes move back and forth over the article until she reached the bottom.

"Freddie Lounds is a public figure," She said, pushing the laptop back toward him. "A notorious and ambitious figure, but public nonetheless. Killing her would bring attention to you."

"How very Machiavellian of her," Will muttered bitterly at the screen, his eyes running over the article once more, before shutting his computer. 

"I'm more interested in why you haven't killed Hannibal Lecter." 

He sighed. "I told you. I find him much more interesting alive."

His mother smirked. "That's not just interest in that picture. Even the lovely Miss Lounds sees that." Will didn't respond, staring somewhere to her right. "I imagine there must be an appeal to have someone who can live in that darkness with you." Will dropped his eyes. She stood and walked around the table before leaning next to him and pressing her hand to his cheek. He leaned into the touch, sighing slightly. "Don't ever be ashamed of your darkness, my darling." She hooked her hand under his chin and forced his gaze upward. "I am adjacent to that darkness. I won't deny that darkness attracts me. But if I ever let it in, it would consume me. But you, my darling, can live in it and still return." She ran her thumb over his jaw. "Hannibal Lecter lives in that darkness too. And he can still return. I imagine there's an appeal to having that understanding." She stood and pressed a kiss into his hair. "But you must be careful. You are dangerous to each other."

"I know, Mother."

She nodded slightly. "Now, stop obsessing over Freddie Lounds and eat your breakfast."

Will smiled slightly. "Yes, Mother."

He didn't eat a single meal alone that day. Lunch was spent with Alana who drilled him relentlessly on the state of his mental health. She meant well and Will could see it, but he also knew that she wasn't privy to all the information he had. Or that his therapist had. Alana also subtly hint that he may be growing too close to Hannibal if Freddie Lounds's article were to be believed. Will could argue that Freddie was prone to inflammatory journalism. He could also argue that the world this day and age was more adept at photoshop and likely Freddie along with it. But he didn't. He hummed at her assessment and nodded. He couldn't grow too close to his therapist, after all. 

Dinner was spent at Hannibal's. The other didn't let Will in the kitchen, so he spent the majority of the meal prep wandering around Hannibal's study. It felt like he was peering into some corner of Hannibal's mind, the parts that Hannibal let him in anyway. His fingers ran over various books, seeing all different languages. He found a copy of _The Iliad_ , smiling to himself as he did. His fingers drifted over the cover, seeing it was well used but just as equally taken care of. 

"Are you a fan of Homer, Will?" 

He didn't bother turning to look at the other man behind him, instead, he focused on the book as if it were more fascinating. It was a lie, of course, but much like Freddie, he too had Machiavellian tendencies. 

"I'm a fan of any good story," Will answered, opening the book. 

He could feel more than hear Hannibal move through the room until they were closer. Will's fingers drifted over the page he was currently looking at but not really seeing. 

"'A black cloud of grief came shrouding over Achilles.  
Both hands clawing the ground for soot and filth,  
he poured it over his head, fouled his handsome face  
and black ashes settled onto his fresh clean war-shirt." Hannibal quoted.

"Overpowered in all his power, sprawled in the dust,  
Achilles lay there, fallen...  
Tearing his hair, defiling it with his own hands." Will said, taking over the verse for himself.

"Achilles lamenting the death of Patroclus." He said after a moment. He closed the book and set it back in its original position. 

"Whenever he's mentioned, Patroclus seems to be defined by his empathy," Hannibal said.

"There's still a debate amongst scholars who was Erastes and who was Erasmus." Will turned, finally facing Hannibal. "Patroclus was older. But Achilles the better warrior." 

"There is also still a debate about the extent of their relationship." Hannibal's eyes sparkled.

Will scoffed. "Achilles refused to let Patroclus's body undergo burial rights because he couldn't force himself to leave him. Patroclus's ghost had to tell him to so he could move on." He turned his attention fully to Hannibal. "When was the last time you wept that long for a friend?"

Hannibal smirked. "Dinner is almost ready. I suggest you take your seat." 

Will nodded, following Hannibal from the room. Whereas Hannibal continued into the kitchen, he stopped, taking his usual place at Hannibal's table. It was only a moment later that the other entered, holding a tray with flames. The sight immediately caught Will's attention and he sat up more in his chair. Hannibal set the tray between them and Will's eyes focused on the contents within the flame. 

"Ortolans?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at Hannibal.

"Have you had them before?" Hannibal asked as the flames died down. 

"Once. When I was much younger."

"Traditionally, we are to wear shrouds over our faces to hide the act from God." Will could feel the weight of Hannibal's eyes on him. "I, however, don't hide from God."

"Yet you do hide," Will said, picking up one of the birds after the flames died away. He barely remembered the flavor of ortolans from the first time he had them. He was six at the time. But he doubted that experience would compare to Hannibal's expertise in the kitchen. 

"Not from God." Hannibal reiterated. "And not from you." 

Will smirked. 

He was well aware of the rather phallic nature of consuming ortolans, and he found himself keeping eye contact with Hannibal. He could tongue tingled with the flavor and he could feel the crunch of tiny bones between his teeth. Hannibal watched him before eventually grabbing for the other bird. They were silent for a moment, Will savoring the flavor and Hannibal savoring the sight before him before each turned their attention to the other part of their meal.

"After my first ortolan, I was euphoric." His eyes met Will's. "A reminder of one's power over life and death."

"Over the life and death of others," Will said after a moment. "We all die eventually. There is only so much power one can have over the inevitable." 

Hannibal's lips curved upward slightly. "Indeed." 

They finished their meal with relatively little conversation. Most of their meal was spent watching each other. And how could he not watch Hannibal? He thought about his mother's words earlier in the day. Her warning, yet again, that any relationship between him and Hannibal, even the one they had now, was dangerous. They were dangerous. But his mind drifted to before her warning. 

_I imagine there must be an appeal to have someone who can live in that darkness with you._

And God there was an appeal. But more than that, Hannibal himself was his own appeal. He followed Hannibal into the kitchen after their dinner was finished, helping him clean. If Hannibal minded or thought anything of it, he didn't say anything. Though Will was too lost in his mind to truly notice. They moved in relative silence until everything was clean and dry and placed back in likely the same position Hannibal had acquired it from. From the kitchen, he followed the other into his study once again.

Will was too restless to sit, too many things in his mind making him need to move. Once again, he paced around the study, examining everything that caught his eye. His eyes jumped from book to book, purposefully ignoring _The Iliad_ , and instead focusing on other titles. When those lost interest for him, he turned to the desk in the corner. Hannibal lit a fire behind him, bathing the room in a soft orange glow. On the desk in front of him were several drawings. He had a feeling that the drawings were placed there on purpose. He saw detailed drawings of the human body, what looked like a boarding school, but what really caught Will's attention was the drawing of the Wound Man. 

God, it was beautiful.

The other drawings fell from his hands as he focused completely on the drawing. He had only seen images of the Jeremy Olmstead and what Hannibal had done. But Hannibal's reproduction by his own hand was by far more beautiful than the art he had left before. His free hand ran over the drawing, memorizing every line and every detail. Hannibal walked up behind him, and Will's breath caught in his chest. Hannibal's hand reached forward, grasping the page just above Will's hand. He pulled it from Will's grasp, setting it on the table. Hannibal stepped closer until Will's back was pressed against his chest. 

He raised his head slowly, taking in a slow breath. His eyes were focused somewhere ahead of him, but he couldn't actually see what was there. Instead, his mind brought forth a more enticing picture of Hannibal at his shoulder, his lips parted and his hair falling over his brow as it had before. He felt Hannibal's hand ghost over his, fingertips grazing over flesh. He swallowed thickly, staying perfectly still as Hannibal's hand continued to roam. He moved up his arm, over his shoulder, brushed his clavicle. The other's hand moved over his throat to the other side of his face, turning it just slightly. 

_Someone who can live in that darkness with you._

_Hannibal Lecter lives in that darkness too._

Hannibal's eyes were focused on his when their gazes finally met. Will leaned back slightly, pressing his back more against Hannibal's chest. He swallowed thickly again. 

"Tell me if you don't want this," Hannibal whispered. But Will didn't answer. Because he did want it. He wanted Hannibal.

He wanted to be seen and known, truly known even in a way his mother couldn't see him. He wanted to be understood on the deepest levels. And he wanted to understand someone in that way. But not just someone. He wanted to see Hannibal in that way. He wanted to see the darkest parts of his mind, of his soul, and he would still be there anyway. 

"What do you want, Will?" Hannibal whispered.

"You."

Hannibal's hand slid to the back of his neck, fingers twisting in his curls. Subconsciously, his hand moved to the back of Hannibal's head, pulling them closer just as Hannibal did. Their eyes were still locked, even as their lips were near touching. 

"Hannibal," He breathed. 

And suddenly, the distance between them was closed. Their lips met. He was electrified. His fingers threaded through the soft hair at the base of Hannibal's head, pressing them together more. His eyes slid shut as Hannibal's other arm wrapped around his waist. His free hand brushed down the other's arm, threading their fingers together. After a moment, they broke apart and he turned. Hannibal's arms came around him once more, almost clinging to him. Their lips met again in a deeper kiss than before. He kept one hand threaded in Hannibal's hair and the other wrapped around his waist, fisting in the fabric at his lumbar spine. 

"Hannibal."

"Will."


	14. Chapter 14

This victim was not Will's. And it was not Hannibal's.

How odd.

For a grand moment, Will had forgotten that there were other killers besides himself and the one he was currently playing the world's most dangerous game with. But this body didn't belong to either of them. The body was settled perfectly in the center of a stage, with a single spotlight focused on him. The body was dressed in a suit as though they were about to start performing in a symphony, which would be appropriate given the setting. But that wasn't the odd part of the body. The throat was expertly cut open with the vocal cords exposed and treated. The vocal cords were pulled taught through the mouth and attached to the fingerboard of a cello. He looked over to Beverly who was examining the bow that accompanied the human cello. 

The rest of the bodies Will had seen over the week belonged to Hannibal, he knew as much just from how they were placed. Though why Hannibal felt the need to leave a man sitting across the aisle from himself was something he would have to ask him about later. Despite how artful the body was, there were no organs taken, nothing to indicate that this was the Ripper. Either of them. He was never truly the musical kind. He had a piano that he rarely touched. Hannibal, however, was far more musical. He had picked up a few things here and there wandering around his house. But this didn't strike him as something Hannibal would do. Oh, he might turn a human into a musical instrument, but not like this. He imagined something grander. Perhaps a piano made from ribs. Bodies could be positioned in such odd ways once rigor set it. Maybe that's what he would do for Hannibal next, make him something he could play on. 

Will's mind ran through everyone who could have possibly left the body there. Between him and Hannibal and this new killer, there wouldn't be much of Baltimore left before any of them were done. He supposed this one would be worth catching. Hannibal was something far too beautiful to be caught. Will's thoughts diverged in two different directions. One focused on the body in front of him. This was a gift for someone. The killer was playing for someone. _Serenading_ someone. Another killer perhaps? Maybe a friend? Potential partner? Someone they wanted to coax to their side. The other part of his thoughts veered toward how else he could up the game between him and Hannibal. He'd had a taste, just a tantalizing taste, of the monster under Hannibal's skin. Of the real Hannibal Lecter. And it maddeningly intoxicating. He could still feel Hannibal's lips against his own, feel the way he was restraining himself. Feel the way he forced himself to be gentle with Will. He wanted the gentle, he wouldn't deny that, but he wanted the rough just as equally. He saw the brutality Hannibal was capable of in his kills. He saw the predator. How would that predator react to him?

"We should look at the Baltimore cultural-arts community. Anyone who may have had a problem with him and his playing. No doubt he was a member of the symphony." Will pushed himself off his knees, not knowing when he knelt in the first place. "Look at other musicians in the string section. Anyone who plays a string instrument who may have attended the symphony frequently." 

Hannibal Lecter would be on that list. Along with his mother. Will gritted his teeth to keep his anger in check. Neither Hannibal nor his mother did this, but that didn't mean they weren't in danger. This was a killer as much as a critic. This person frequented the symphony, maybe the opera. Either his mother or Hannibal likely had come across them. Will left the building abruptly before Jack or Beverly could stop him. Price and Zeller took his weirdness with a grain of salt, they wouldn't be surprised at his sudden departure. Beverly, however, was far more curious than either of them and he would even go so far as to call her a friend. One of a few. Jack would also fall into that category. But neither of them had a chance to stop Will before he was out the door. He had his phone in his hand before he could fully realize what he was planning. The number was dialed before he fully comprehended it.

"I was wondering when you would call." 

Will sat in his car, shutting the door behind him and locking the car with an audible click. 

"How did you know about me?" 

"What do you mean, darling?" His mother asked.

"How did you know about my darkness?" 

Will had been too young to truly remember how it came about. He did remember, though, that his mother seemed to change her interactions toward him. She was never less loving, but she had seen something and had known when he was young that there was something that needed to be reined in. By the time he started school, his mother was teaching him how to carefully construct his personality. As he grew, she taught him when and how to let his emotions out. When and how to control his worst, buried impulses. He was certain without her he might have killed someone much more publicly. He would be in prison, or worse the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, without her. But he had never asked how she knew. She accepted him, so he accepted her knowledge.

"It was something I could sense within you." She answered. "As you grew up, it became more evident. But you were far too clever and too observant a child to not have something else within you." 

"Could you tell about someone else too?" 

"Some." She paused for a moment. "Does this have to do with the murder at the symphony?" 

"Freddie?" Will asked. 

"Freddie." She confirmed. 

He hissed under his breath. Of course, Freddie Lounds had found the body before them. Of course, it was already out in the world. Maybe he should kill her. 

"The man was a part of the symphony. I know you go. Have you ever met someone who you saw that same darkness in?" 

She was silent for a long moment and Will could practically hear the gears turning in her mind. Besides Hannibal, his mother was the only other person with as good a memory as him. There would be a lot to sort through to find what she wanted. It was why she had instilled a memory technique in him, to attempt to make it easier to wade through the years of information that would never truly leave him. He could bury things, lock them behind doors that he would never open. And he could keep things at the surface that he wanted to remember. He remembered his mother teaching him to dance. He remembered meeting Margot, all knees and a wide grin. He remembered the moment his eyes met Hannibal's, and the way he was trapped in that amber gaze. Those were things he kept at the surface, memories he revisited often. 

"There was one man," She said after a long moment. "He was always there with another. I don't think I ever caught the man's name. But I know his friend's. Franklyn." She paused.

"Froideveaux?" Will asked. He should feel more ashamed that he had taken a peek into Hannibal's appointment book. There was an F. Froideveaux and Will idly hoped he was wrong. 

"Yes," His mother confirmed. "I would remember such a unique last name." He could almost hear her smile. "If sunshine were a person, that would be Mr. Froideveaux. All smiles that man."

"He's one of Hannibal's patients." 

"Dear me," His mother feigned concern. "Do you think he is in danger?" 

"And he doesn't even know it." 

Why was he suddenly feeling... _jealous_?

"Do you think Hannibal knows?" 

"If he doesn't, he will soon." 

He could almost feel his mother scrutinizing him through the phone. "I assume you are done at the crime scene for the morning. Come over. You can indulge that caffeine addiction of yours." 

Will felt his lips twitch. "Yes, Mother."

* * *

Hannibal could not say that the last eight days hadn't been exciting. In the span of eight days, there were two murders and one mercy killing, he had met another killer, and thought perhaps he lost the one person he could ever truly care about. The murder at the symphony had just been the start of it, though it was a shame to know that the body wasn't a part of his current game, or perhaps courting, with Will. Instead, it belonged to someone else. Then, Franklyn appeared for his daily appointment, more distraught than ever. He confided in Hannibal that the man who Hannibal had previously met at the opera, Tobias Budge, had told him a rather disturbing "joke." This joke then became reality, and Franklyn couldn't help but think the worst. His friend had committed that murder. And Hannibal was inclined to agree. Especially after having met Budge on his own terms and then inviting the other over for a meal. 

He thought perhaps he would kill Budge but for some reason, the idea of him killing the man wasn't as enticing as it should be. But Will killing him, however. All it took was a quick phone call to point Will in the right direction, a direction he found out Will was already heading. What a team they made. Will knew the what, Hannibal gave him the who. Will was distracted on the phone, muttering to himself about calling his mother as they hung up. There was something else in Will's voice that Hannibal couldn't quite decipher, but the call was over before he could figure it out. Whatever appeared to have happened, Will was likely at Budge's store the next day. When the door to his office opened, however, it was Budge who stepped through. He was covered in blood, not all of it likely his own. Hannibal could see bruises forming at his neck, likely by Will's hands. But it wasn't Will who entered the room. When Budge confessed to the murder of two others, not specifying which two, Hannibal's heart seemed to stop completely. 

He was surprised that Budge had as much of a fight left in him as he did, Will apparently having put up a fabulous fight as it was. Franklyn's death was quick at his hand. For all Franklyn's attachments to Hannibal, attachments he wasn't quite comfortable with, he didn't want the man to suffer. Budge would have made him suffer. It was sad, truly, that Franklyn had to die. But he could not leave the room with the two killers he had been between. It was likely anger at that which Hannibal denied him that cause Budge to fight as much as he did. But ultimately it was the angry predatory in him that won out. The anger, lonely predator who suddenly felt as though it had been denied its mate. 

Hannibal was alone when Jack Crawford entered. The EMTs had already come and gone, leaving Hannibal in his chair at his desk. Budge's and Franklyn's bodies were already covered and forensic analysts were working the scene. Jack's posture was resolute, nothing to indicate the man was often a leader who hunted killers for a living. 

And that brought another crack to Hannibal's already shattered heart. 

Why he kept his eyes on the door, he didn't know. Maybe there was still some hope left within him. 

_There's nothing wrong with hope._ A voice whispered to him. 

And then there was Will. His hair had grown out over the time Hannibal knew him, making it slightly wilder after the day he had likely endured. He had long scratches on the side of his face, blood on his collar, and a bound hand. He walked with a limp as he entered the room, and Hannibal could see a hole in one of his pant legs where a white bandage shifted under the surface. How ironic their wounds were matching. It was Hannibal's opposite leg that Budge had managed to stab the letter opener into, and idly he wondered what he had managed to stab Will with. Will surveyed the scene and Hannibal couldn't help the rush of relief at seeing him alive and mostly intact. His other hand came to his ear, rubbing at it as though it bothered him. He walked through the room, carefully avoid bodies and broken glass, snapping at his ear. He winced but looked satisfied after a moment. 

Will came to a stop in front of him, his ocean-eyes finally meeting Hannibal's.

"I was worried you were dead." 

Will smirked. "Not dead. Annoyed, but not dead." He raised his hand then gestured to his face. "Steel strings." He looked over at Budge. "I gave worse than I got. I assume you noticed the hole in his ear." 

"You shot a gun next to your head." Hannibal understood the pain in his ear. It was likely still ringing from a gunshot in close proximity. But he still had his hearing, something Will confirmed as he walked into the room. 

Jack moved toward them, asking Hannibal about what had happened. He gave bits and pieces of his story, the parts that would make sense. He knew that Will read between the lines, seeing the truth amongst the partial lies. Jack left, and Hannibal saw the skepticism in his eyes. But eventually, there was no one with Will and Hannibal as the other sat down on the edge of his desk. Will shifted his foot forward, tapping the foot of Hannibal's injured leg. 

"Letter opener." He looked at Will's leg.

"A metal pole. I think it's used to make strings." 

The others filtered out of the room, leaving Hannibal and Will alone.

The other leaned forward, running his thumb just below Hannibal's bottom lip. He could see the blood on his thumb as he pulled his hand away, sucking it between his lips. Will's eyes sparkled with mischief as he dropped his thumb from his mouth. Hannibal pulled the other's injured hand closer, hearing him hiss slightly before he pressed it to his lips. Will's other hand moved upward slightly, pushing his hair back slightly from where it had fallen over his brow. He pulled the other closer, forcing Will almost onto his lap. His tongue grazed over the scratches on the side of Will's face while the hand he recently released dropped to his leg, drifting over the wound there. Why either of them suddenly felt the need to claim the other's wounds for themselves he didn't know. He moved one hand to Will's hair, shifting his head with a slight pull while his other hand found the wound on his thigh. Will hummed slightly as Hannibal's tongue flicked over his likely ringing ear. 

He pushed up from his chair, suddenly bringing their bodies together. His leg stung with the quick movement but he ignored it as his body was suddenly flush against Will's. The other wrapped his injured hand around his waist while the other moved to his hair, brushing it back once again. 

Something inside the other seemed to relax at the nearness of their bodies and the touch. He wasn't certain what had the other wound up, but it seemed to vanish under their claiming movements. 

"It was you, wasn't it?" Will whispered as their foreheads pressed together.

Hannibal didn't need to ask what Will meant. It was he who Budge was serenading. Not Franklyn. Not someone else. Hannibal. And Will knew it. But Will was alive and in Hannibal's arms. Budge was dead. Was it jealousy that filtered into Will's voice those days ago and had finally left his body when Hannibal had claimed wounds inflicted by another for his own?

He had thought once, at another time when Will was in his office, that they would tear each other apart. It seemed that the only time either of them would consent to be torn apart was at the hand of the other. He only consented to the stinging, aching pain when it was Will causing it. And Will hadn't objected when Hannibal's movements had caused him pain. 

Hannibal didn't answer his question, and that appeared to be enough of an answer for Will.

The other ran his hand through Hannibal's hair once more before pulling from his grasp. He turned his head, unwilling to watch the other leave until the door shut once more. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything that happens in either of their mind palaces in this chapter is in italics, just FYI.

Hannibal barely had time to step out of the way as Will entered his house. He was drenched in rain which had soaked through his jacket, making his clothes drip and his hair flatten against his head. He didn't bother hanging up his jacket, knowing it would drip all over Hannibal's floor. Instead, he let Hannibal carefully peel it from him and drop it rather unceremoniously on the ground. He would come back with a towel to dry the floor and to grab the jacket to put in his dryer, but he most mostly concerned that Will was shaking which Hannibal could feel with only a hand on his bicep. He could feel everything through his shirt which was practically glued to his chest with sweat and rain. His lips had a faint shade of blue to them, suggesting he had been in the cold rain for a while. Hannibal evaluated him closer as he moved the other through his house and to his room. He would have to change from his clothes unless he was keen on hypothermia. His knuckles were bloody and there was a small cut on his lip. Given Will's slightly battered state, he expected there would be another gift awaiting him in the morning. 

How serendipitous that he had arrived while Hannibal was cooking dinner. Dinner that was derived from yet another gift for Will. 

The other didn't say anything as Hannibal pulled his rain-soaked shirt from him. He supposed Will could have done it for himself, but instead he seemed content to let Hannibal do the work, his ocean-colored eyes focusing on him every time Hannibal's eyes moved from his face. He let the shirt fall to the floor of his bathroom, hearing it hit with a soft slap. His eyes moved of their own volition, scanning Will's torso and adding it to yet another layer of his mental image of Will. 

"You'll need a change of clothes. And probably a shower to warm you up after your endeavor tonight." He pulled a towel from the cabinet in his bathroom and set it on the sink. "I'll leave some clothes for you." His eyes flicked to Will's face and for the first time this night, Will's eyes didn't move away. "I assume you can shower and dress yourself." 

Will's eyes flashed with something and his lips twitched slightly, but he made no other movement to acknowledge Hannibal's assumption. He refrained from reaching out to the other and instead took a step back.

"Once you've showered I'll bandage your hand." 

He stepped from the room before hearing the thump of Will's soaked pants falling to the floor. The shower started a moment later. He gathered some clothes that were close to Will's size and set them on the counter, careful to avoid looking at the all-glass shower. He was tempted, of course, but he would respect Will's privacy as best he could. He gathered the wet clothes on the floor and shut the door behind him, wondering if the sudden weight he felt was from Will's eyes following his retreating form. Rather than just dry the soaked clothes, he decided it would be worth washing them first. It wasn't as though Will was going anywhere anytime soon. How he knew that with absolute certainty, he didn't know. But he knew. Will would stay. He returned to making dinner, adding more to balance out the portions. He was nearly finished when Will padded into the kitchen, barefoot and more like himself than the drowned man who entered his house minutes before.

He moved closer to the island, pressing his hands against the countertop as he watched Hannibal work. The knuckles on both of his hands were bloodied and raw and he couldn't help but wonder what emotions the other was working out as he claimed his newest life. True to his word, he walked around the counter, grabbing the warm, soapy water he had already prepared and the bandages next to it as he did. He cleaned each knuckle individually, even though they were already clean from Will's shower. He took his time wrapping the bandages around the other's hands, though Will was more than pliant with every movement. When he finished, he forced himself to let the other go, walking back around the counter to finish the meal. Will chose the wine, and after a moment, they ventured into the dining room sitting across from each other at the table. 

Will's eyes were focused on him throughout the transition of rooms and well after they sat down. 

Neither said anything as they began to eat. He couldn't stop himself from watching the other's slow, calculated movements as he ate. The meal was far tenser than it had any right to be. Will's hair was back to its normal look, a few curls falling over his forehead that shifted with his every movement. 

Hannibal thought back to the reason he had chosen the one he had that currently provided the meal he and Will were sharing. Will would see the connection immediately, once the body was discovered. He thought about the message he had wanted to convey with the newest art he left for the man across the table from him. And it made him wonder what message Will was trying to convey. It had been personal, judging by the wounds on his hands. But exactly how personal?

Will's hand flexed, the other having noticed Hannibal's eyes drifting to it once again. He could almost see those hands as he killed, the intensity with which Will would perform the task. The intimacy the other likely felt as he created his art. It was something he would love to see. He suspected Will would loosen up more during a kill, becoming wilder and darker. He wondered, not for the first time, how much different, or perhaps similar, that intimacy would be in other aspects of Will's life.

* * *

Will knew the moment he made eye contact with Hannibal over the meal that their thoughts were headed down the same path. And it only served to make his thoughts that much worse. His relationship with Hannibal was interesting. To a degree, both of them were pushing each other to the center of their universes, everything of Will revolved around Hannibal and everything of Hannibal revolved around Will. He was selfish and possessive in that way, as was Hannibal. But it wasn't inherently intimate. They had claimed wounds inflicted by others for themselves, even claimed each other in a way with their shared kiss. But it wasn't entirely intimate or sexual in nature. And he would be perfectly comfortable keeping their relationship with the distance they had. Except he didn't want that. 

His mind had been buzzing around it for the better part of the week after he had left Hannibal's office. He tried to parse out his jealousy at another killer potentially trying to befriend Hannibal, at someone who was not him having such a profound place in the other's life. It made no sense logically that he would react in such a way. But yet it did. He wanted Hannibal. But a very specific kind of want. Just as much as he desired to be seen and known by the other, to be understood and valued for who he truly was, he wanted to be wanted by him. He wanted him to be his. It was that which lead to his kill this night and the need that drove him to Hannibal's doorstep. 

When his gaze met Hannibal's amber eyes, however, he saw his own sentiments reflected at him. The ghost of Hannibal's hands over his own made a barely repressed shiver make its way down his spine. 

_Lips crashed together, followed closely by teeth sinking into soft flesh._

He supposed part of his mind palace had started to include bits and pieces of Hannibal's as well. They likely shared his study, the kitchen, and the dining room. Places they often spent time together. 

_He tasted copper as hands wrapped around him, strong fingers digging into his back._

Hannibal forced his gaze away but didn't manage it for long. His lips were parted just slightly, only enough that someone who paid attention would truly notice it. His amber gaze was heavy on Will, eyes locked together. 

He could see clearly that Hannibal's mind had taken the same turn as his own. Their thoughts were traveling down the same path. Will took another bite, keeping his eyes locked with Hannibal. Idly, he wondered if their thoughts had been traveling the same path for the duration of the day if the flavor of the meat was at all an indicator.

_Bodies rocked together, fitting in place like puzzle pieces._

He wasn't quite sure if he was in his own mind anymore, as the space between them seemed to fill with his thoughts, mixing with Hannibal's. 

_Hands twisted together while their other hands clung to each other, pressing them closer together._

He raised his glass of wine to his lips, unable to force himself to look away from Hannibal. Dinner was all but ignored between them consciously, though their bodies still seemed to be going through the motions of eating. 

Will's version of Hannibal and Hannibal's version of Will seemed to come together in the space between them.

_Faces buried in necks. Rough panting breaths drifting over overstimulated skin._

They finished their meals and Will trailed Hannibal into the kitchen, his bare feet padding across the cold floor. Normally, he assumed, Hannibal wouldn't have allowed such a thing if it were anyone but Will and his shoes weren't currently soaked all the way through and his socks in Hannibal's washing machine. 

_Tension built between them. Bodies becoming more insistent, chasing mutual pleasure._

They moved in tandem as they cleaned, perfectly choreographed movements as if they were domestic partners rather than the killers who had committed deadly acts earlier that very night. 

_Hannibal._

_Will._

He turned, their bodies colliding together, just as the act in their minds reached its peak. He pressed forward, bringing his and Hannibal's lips together. His arms wrapped around the other while his arms wrapped around Will. This wasn't the same nearly chaste kiss they had shared before. This wasn't indulging needs to be seen and known. This wasn't even the claiming they had done in the past. They were beyond that. There would be no going back for them now. Neither of them would be content letting go. He slid one arm into Hannibal's suit jacket while the other hand moved to his hair. Hannibal mirrored him, fisting a hand in his curls and the other pressing against the fabric of his borrowed shirt at his back. The game they were playing was only amplified now, as they had staked their claim. Hannibal belonged to Will. And Will belonged to Hannibal.

* * *

Rather than have everyone drive between two crime scenes, Jack has assigned small teams to each. Will found himself staring at the body Hannibal had left for him. Which meant Hannibal was currently staring at the body Will left for him. He was grateful it was Beverly who accompanied him to this scene as she was far less judgmental about Will's responses than any of the others, Jack included, where. He wasn't certain whether or not to be angry when he saw the body. Perhaps he should be angry. He knew the man that the body once belonged to. They hadn't spoken in years though. He supposed the other changed over that time, but it wasn't enough that Will couldn't identify the body. 

His phone rang as Beverly took pictures of the body and all its pieces. It was carefully folded and molded together, sewn and stitched at the right places to form a heart. The arms and legs were missing, he supposed one of them was likely in the dinner from the previous night. But the head was still by the body, placed in front of the human heart for easy identification. Hannibal wanted Will to know who the body belonged to on sight. 

His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket, answering it on the speaker. 

"Jack." Will greeted half-heartedly.

"Hannibal knew the victim," Jack said, his voice booming over the speaker. Beverly turned toward his phone as though she were going to speak, but Will beat her to it.

"I know this one too." He avoided Beverly's eyes. "His name is Owen Michaels. I haven't seen him since university though." 

"This victim was one of Hannibal's former patients." Will knew this already. 

"It's a message, isn't it?" Beverly asked. 

"Yes," Will confirmed.

"The Ripper?" Jack asked. Will didn't need to confirm this one though. "He's been busy."

"He's talking to Hannibal and to me." Silence answered Will's statement, waiting for him to continue. "Freddie Lounds has been very vocal about the fact that Hannibal and I are consultants on the Ripper's case. The Ripper has noticed." 

That wasn't the real message, of course. In fact, as Will had guessed the night before, the message between the two of them was the same.

_Mine._

"Why people neither of you have been in contact with for years?"

"The Ripper is saying that he's not interested in Hannibal or me. Just that he's paying attention. Messages directed toward us, but not threats. They're far enough removed."

"You don't think the Ripper will come for you or Hannibal?" Jack asked.

Will wanted to smirk. Of course, the Ripper would come for either of them. But not in the way Jack thought. How ironic he was talking to one of the Rippers while likely being near the other and worried for their safety.

"No."

That was the extent of their conversation. Will stayed with Beverly until she finished cataloging the crime scene and others came to move the body. She would fully examine it back at Quantico, just as she would Will's human piano, an idea he carried until competition. 

Will climbed into his car, pulling out his phone once more.

"Good morning, Will." Margot greeted on the other end. 

"Hello, Margot." He couldn't stop the smile at her voice. She was his oldest friend and one of the most important people in his life. It was strange to him how long that list was growing. 

"What can I do for you this morning?" She asked.

"Do you remember Owen Michaels?"

"You mean the man I'm convinced was in love with you all four years of university? That Owen Michaels?"

Will rolled his eyes. "Did you ever tell anyone else your suspicions?"

"I might have." She said. "I'm sure if I did, they likely told someone else. You know how the elite love their gossip."

Will refrained from sighing. Margot told someone who told someone else until the information eventually found its way to Hannibal. The game between them was growing more and more by the second. And now it was slowly evolving into a race.

He wasn't certain, though, who he wanted to win. 


	16. Chapter 16

> _**Who is the Ripper?** _
> 
> _Dear readers. Over the last few months, we have seen a surprising uptick in violent, though rather artistic crimes. You'll no doubt remember the murders began with a body found in the woods and the resurgence of the Chesapeake Ripper. As time has gone on, we have seen a dramatic increase in Ripper killings, far exceeding that of the Chesapeake Ripper we knew and feared two years ago. This begs the question, what has happened to the Chesapeake Ripper? The murders are still the same dramatic, artistic, grandiose displays we're used to over two years ago. But now, they have increased dramatically. Two years ago, the body count of the Chesapeake Ripper was nine, ten if missing FBI trainee Miriam Lass is included amongst the Ripper's victims. However, Miriam Lass was never found despite the Ripper's love of displaying his victims._
> 
> _The Ripper went on a two-year hiatus after terrorizing the Baltimore area. Then the bodies started appearing once again. The Ripper has since left seven bodies since his reappearance to civilized society. You'll remember, dear readers, that two of the Ripper's more recent bodies were linked back to consultants Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. One, Madison LeVial, was a former patient of Hannibal Lecter. The other, Owen Michaels, was a former classmate of Will Graham's. More recently, dear readers, two more bodies were left by the Ripper. Both of them can also be linked back to the special agent and his FBI appointed handler._
> 
> _Lyla Marks, another former classmate of Will Graham's, was found staged on one of the campuses of George Washington University, Will Graham's alma mater. The other, Michael "Mica" DuCant, was found not far from the office of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, his former psychiatrist._ _But this, dear readers, is not the most interesting part._
> 
> _The Ripper appears to be talking to the consultants on his case, warning them that he is aware of their presence. Or is he? Perhaps, it is not that the Ripper is telling the consultants on his case that he is aware of them, but rather the Rippers talking to each other. As I have speculated before, the Ripper might not be one, but rather two killers intertwined with each other. As I have also speculated before, there seems to be more than just a patient-psychiatrist relationship between Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. But perhaps we were too far removed to truly see the full picture. Perhaps, dear readers, we were missing one vital piece of the overall puzzle._
> 
> _Perhaps, dear readers, the reason we were missing the biggest piece was because of a deep need to see the best in those who are tasked to uphold our values. Dear readers, the reason we may not have seen who the Chesapeake Ripper, or Rippers, are is because they are Special Agent Will Graham and Doctor Hannibal Lecter._

* * *

Will thought Jack was going to explode. It would be a good reason, though. If Jack exploded it would be because Hannibal and Will had driven him to the brink. It would be because Freddie Lounds, of all people, was correct. As it turns out, as they had over the last month, Will and Hannibal were constantly following the same thought process. He was accompanying Jack to their second seen of the day. The first was one Will had left for them to find. He had saved the blood from one of his earlier crime scenes and spread it at a new one. Ironically, the words he used were mirrored the scene that Hannibal left. Both left the same phrase at their crime scenes. Hannibal had expertly disguised his handwriting while Will had painted on the walls. Will had commandeered one of Hannibal's past crime scenes as had Hannibal. 

Hannibal had left a severed arm at his last scene with a note tucked under it. Jack approached the arm, staring down at the arm as though it would suddenly reach up and slap him. He studied the arm carefully, but it couldn't tell him anything. His eyes eventually flicked from the arm to the note under it.

_What do you see?_

It was the same message Will had left, though he had painted in blood on walls whereas Hannibal had seemingly written in blood-red ink. Will stood off to the side, observing Jack, Beverly, Price, and Zeller. This might convince Jack that there were two Rippers. The presence of the same message, coordinated at two different locations with remnants of two different victims waiting for the FBI. He wasn't quite certain, though, if he and Hannibal would be considered suspects. Perhaps, Jack would take Freddie Lounds's idea to heart and start investigating two of his consultants. Or perhaps, he would believe that only one of them was the Ripper. Maybe he would think it was Will. Maybe he would think it was Hannibal. So, Will watched. Jack's shoulders were tense, almost up to his ears. He was staring at the pale arm which probably belonged to a woman, given the hand. If Will had to guess, he would say the arm belonged to Miriam Lass.

She was alive. And Jack would explode. 

It would almost be entertaining if he didn't consider Jack a friend. Jack was his friend. He didn't want to hurt him, didn't want to cause the man pain. Jack was a good person. He had dedicated his life to doing good for the world, unlike Will and Hannibal who tore their world apart with their hands, leaving madness and art in their wake. Jack dedicated his life to catching serial killers. And now he had two of them dancing circles around each other, pulling Jack into the middle of it. Maybe he should be mad at Hannibal for constantly dragging Jack, Beverly, Price, and Zeller into their game. He knew the FBI would investigate the murders specifically attributed to the Ripper. But he didn't want his game with Hannibal to be directed at Jack and the other members of his team. He should remove himself from the investigation. There would be internal investigations of Will and Hannibal. He could see the higher-ups in the FBI combing through his and Hannibal's life meticulously, if for no other reason than to cover their bases. He knew his cover life, as well as Hannibal's, were perfectly constructed to keep their secrets. 

He knew his mother would say nothing. He knew Margot would say nothing. Mason was a bit of a wild card, though he doubted that the man would say anything that would lead in Will's direction. Mason didn't know anything that could potentially implicate Will and if anything, it would more than likely lead back to the pile of bodies that Mason had so carefully disposed of using his pigs. The only other potential wild card was Abigail. She had glimpses of Will and Hannibal's life, knew they were murderers. But she didn't know how terrible either of them was. She didn't know enough to implicate either of them. 

But maybe Jack would ignore it. Because the speculation came from Freddie Lounds and it was just that. Speculation. 

"Jack," Beverly's voice was soft, comforting. It pulled Will from his thoughts and back into the moment and the arm that was meant as a message. "It's Miriam Lass."

The phone in Miriam's hand began to ring. Before Jack had any time to process the information, he answered the call.

"Jack." A woman's voice called. "Jack. It's Miriam." She was breathing heavily, obviously panicked. "Jack. I don't know where I am. It's so dark." Jack stared at the phone, obviously shocked. "Jack, I was so wrong. I was so wrong." Will could hear her voice echoing. "Jack, I don't wanna die like this."

The message cut off, leaving Jack to stare at the silent phone once more. Will stepped forward and the other man tensed. He didn't step any closer. Beverly, Price, and Zeller stared at him. Eventually, he turned toward Will. He could see the message in the other's eyes before it ever left his mouth and he nodded. The other three seemed to understand that something important was about to be said between Will and Jack, so they quickly took their pictures and removed the arm, leaving the other two alone. 

"I'll recuse myself from the investigation," Will said as the observatory door shut. 

"I'm sorry, Will." He huffed. 

"No, it's fine." 

"I'll need you to keep seeing a psychiatrist. The Bureau might suggest seeing a new psychiatrist." 

Will nodded. That wasn't going to happen. Not like Hannibal was actually his psychiatrist anyway. 

Jack said nothing else and Will nodded once more. He left, walking to his car and dropping his head back against the headrest.

He had a plan, to up the stakes even further and maybe even give Jack some piece of mind. But it would be difficult, and he couldn't do it alone. 

He wasn't certain what propelled him to drive to Abigail's facility, but he found himself debating in the car for a while. So long, in fact, that he didn't even have to leave his car. Abigail walked from the front door, waving at him and opening the door to the car for herself. She dropped into the passenger's seat and grinned at Will. He half-heartedly smiled back. 

"What's wrong?"

"I may have to ask for your help." 

She furrowed her brows. "What do you need?"

He huffed, pressing his palms into the steering wheel. 

"It's not good, is it?" 

He shook his head. He shouldn't ask. 

"Are you going to ask me to kill someone?" Her voice was oddly confident given the gravity of the subject she was asking about.

"No." He looked over at her again. "In fact, I'm asking you to help me save someone." 

She turned and grasped the seatbelt, buckling it. She adjusted herself in the seat and looked at him expectantly. 

"Are you sure?" 

She looked over at him. "I know you're not my father. I have no obligation to do anything to help you and you have no obligation to me. But I want to help you." 

He smirked and started the car once more.

The next day Will crossed paths with Miriam Lass for the second time in 24 hours, despite how late in the day it was. He and Abigail had been incredibly careful and it had taken the better part of a night to find her. There were only a few places she could have been given the echo of her voice in the message. Both he and Abigail had hidden their faces as they helped her from the pit Hannibal had left her in. He suspected she hadn't been spending her last two years there. He probably suspected Jack would find her any day now. Or he left her there for Will to find and to deliver to Jack. Either way, she was now in the world once more. Currently, Beverly, Price, and Zeller were hovering around her, taking samples, and examining her physically. Her arm was healing rather well from what Will could tell. He avoided talking around her the night before so she wouldn't know him the next day. He and Abigail had practically passed out in his car after finding her. They left her in a strategic place and it was obvious she was easily found the next day. He had unwillingly brought Abigail back to his house so she could sleep. It would have been weird to have her return to the facility in the middle of the night. Though the dogs were quite happy to have someone to run with in the morning. 

Miriam's eyes were glazed over and she stared into the distance. Jack walked to where Will had paused, just outside the consultant's office and their eyes met. He seemed slightly calmer than the day before, which was one of the goals he was hoping to achieve. At least knowing Miriam's fate, and that she was alive, was a cross he no longer had to bear. 

"She doesn't remember anything." He said. "She said that she was pulled from wherever she was by two people. She didn't see their faces. They gave her some water and left her to be found." 

He nodded absentmindedly. 

"She seems ok though. Despite everything." 

"Does she know who the Ripper is?" 

"No." He sighed. 

"I'm sorry Jack." 

He shook his head. "No. I should be the one who's sorry." He ran his hands over his face. "I gave up on her. I thought she was dead. And now with you." He turned. "I know you're not the Ripper."

"Jack," He tried to keep his voice reassuring. "It's ok. I know you have to investigate every claim. Even if it's made by Freddie Lounds."

Jack nodded absentmindedly before leaving. 

Will entered the office just as his phone began to ring. He didn't need to look to see who was calling. 

"Doctor," He greeted.

"You've been busy, Will." 

Will smirked. "I'm only just starting, Doctor." He answered in French. 

"Are you?" Hannibal answered in French. 

"Be seeing you, Hannibal." He felt himself practically purring the other's name. 

He was practically bouncing with excitement as he left Quantico. It would take about an hour to drive to Hannibal's and Hannibal still had another patient for the day. He drove, feeling more awake than he had all day, despite the little sleep he had the night before. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel, his heart thundered in his chest, adrenaline ran circles through his veins. Traffic couldn't move fast enough, his car couldn't move fast enough. The biggest problem with it being so late in the day was that he would have to compete with all the other traffic on the road, people wanting to go home. But he was racing to be somewhere else. On the way, he called his mother, asking her if she would let his dogs out. She was staying at the house in Richmond and knowing her, she would take the dogs back home with her. He was certain the only person who loved his dogs as much as he did was his mother. 

With his dogs taken care of, Abigail safe at her facility, and Jack chasing leads that would go nowhere, the only person he had to worry about was Hannibal. And he knew exactly what Hannibal was going to do. It was exactly what he was planning on doing. He navigated familiar roads, knowing the way to Hannibal's house like the back of his hand. 

His whole body was practically shaking with adrenaline and excitement. Their game had built and built over months of dancing around each other, mentally and physically. It started the night they met and by no means was it going to end. It was, however, escalating. Will felt a near sinister smile pulling at his face, his excitement besting him.

He managed to beat Hannibal to his house which he had entered on his own once before. Every other time he had been in the house, it was with Hannibal. 

He didn't have to wait for too long for Hannibal to show. He had been waiting in the man's study, remembering their shared kiss from once before. He could feel Hannibal's hands ghosting over him. The same hands which had killed before and again quite recently. Hannibal walked through the house, not bothering to move toward his bedroom where Will thought he would go first. He didn't even bother turning on any lights. He moved through the house silently until he was in the kitchen. Will followed him, moving through the shadows. He couldn't help but feel as though he were stalking the other and that Hannibal was stalking him. 

He had taken off his shoes, leaving them in the study, so he could move through the house unheard. Hannibal hadn't bothered with the lights except for one that switched on quickly went off. It was the refrigerator then. He crept closer, stopping at the entry to the kitchen to evaluate the other. He was doing something in front of him so his back was turned to Will as he entered. He memorized the lines of the other's body, the broadness of his back, the stretch of his shoulders, the muscles that moved with every shift of his body. Will crept closer.

Hannibal must have known he was there, there was no way he didn't. Will moved closer. Hannibal's body tensed just slightly. He could see the other's hand tighten on something in his grasp. Will moved closer again and Hannibal shifted slightly on his feet. He stepped closer again. Hannibal's head raised, staring forward. He knew Will was there. He could leave. He could walk away and keep their game as calm as it had been, as distant as it had been. Even as wrapped around each other as they had been, this increase in their game would forever cement themselves with each other. They had been pushing each other closer and closer. Their relationship had gone from killers circling one another to men circling each other to potential lovers. If they took that last step, gave in to each other in every way, they would never let go.

He didn't want to let go.

He moved the last step, just as Hannibal turned. 

The two of them moved at the same time. The object clenched in Hannibal's hand was a knife. 

Will felt the sharp tip press against his abdomen just as his hand wrapped around Hannibal's throat. 

"Hello, Will."

"Hello, Hannibal."


	17. Chapter 17

They could have stood like that for an eternity. The world could come crashing down around them, everything could burn, the walls could collapse and civilization as they knew it could vanish and the very place they stood would still be occupied by Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. It didn't matter who was Will and who was Hannibal. They were so wrapped in each other that either could take on the name Will or Hannibal and it would be equally true. They already shared a name, the Chesapeake Ripper. What would sharing two more names be to them? And what, now, would either mean without the other. Just as the Chesapeake Ripper had become synonymous with them, their names were as well. Who was Will Graham without Hannibal Lecter? Who was Hannibal Lecter without Will Graham? Who would they be if they were left alone? Their monsters had focused for so long on each other, on attracting and pleasing the other, that nothing else mattered. And the men in equal measure. The darkest parts of them, the lightest parts of them, blended together. 

Will's fingertips pressed against the pulse points of the other's neck, feeling his thundering heart. Hannibal's knife pressed against his abdomen, not penetrating, but not withdrawing either. Neither of them withdrew. Instead, they stood, gazes locked, waiting for one of them to twitch. This could be the end of their game. Will could easily snap Hannibal's neck right now as he had done with so many others and be done with it. Or Hannibal could plunge the knife into his gut and twist. They could rid the world of the other, rid themselves of the other, and that would be it. Just as Will knew his choices, Hannibal knew his choices as well. If either of them twitched in the wrong way, the other would end it. And likely end themselves along with it. 

There would be no gentle withdraw from this either. Something was going to happen. What did he want to happen? 

Hannibal's gaze was growing heavier by the second. He could feel his lips parting slightly, taking a slow, deep breath. He supposed it was likely the last real breath he would be having for a while. Again, they moved at the same time, his free hand wrapping around Hannibal's wrist, the hand that held the knife, while Hannibal's free hand moved to the wrist of Will's hand that was wrapped around his throat. He could feel every breath Hannibal took, he could feel his heartbeat, he could feel the shift of muscles and the tension that kept Hannibal from pressing forward. He too was tense, preventing his darker instincts from twisting and snapping the bones in Hannibal's neck. But another set of darker instincts, much more hedonistic instincts, wanted something else. Either way, the darkest parts of Will wanted Hannibal alive. And he couldn't help but think that the darkest parts of Hannibal wanted Will alive just as much. 

They pulled the other's hands away in sync, but neither let go. Hannibal deposited the knife on the counter behind him. Will saw it for what it was. He saw the submission. Hannibal wouldn't kill him. But if Will wanted to kill Hannibal, he wouldn't fight. And for a terrifying moment, Will realized he wouldn't either. He wouldn't kill him, and he wouldn't fight if Hannibal decided he wanted to try. 

"Killing is a savage pleasure. An old pleasure, not unique to humans." Hannibal whispered. "And one you've denied yourself tonight." 

Will studied the other, searching his eyes for something, anything that said what the other wanted from him. Every time he thought perhaps they were headed down the same path, that they had met a common unspoken agreement, they would veer wildly in different directions. Apart. He didn't want them apart. 

"It's not the one I want to indulge tonight." 

Something flashed in Hannibal's eyes and Will knew, that for once, there would be no veering in different directions.

"But you're right." He continued. "Killing is a savage pleasure. One we could share." 

"And the pleasure you want to indulge tonight," Hannibal paused for a second. "Is that one you want to share?" 

"With you." 

Hannibal pulled him closer using the grasp he still had on Will's wrist. He mirrored him, feeling his arm move slowly behind him as Hannibal's hand moved to the small of his back. Will's hand moved upward, wrapping around the back of Hannibal's neck in almost the opposite position he'd held before. He let go of the other's wrist, letting his hand trail up the other's arm. Hannibal moved his other hand to Will's face, cupping his cheek. 

"Tell me what you want, Will."

"I want you," He breathed. "Just you." Their bodies were pressed together at this point, Will's achingly hard erection pressing against Hannibal's thigh while Hannibal's erection pressed against his. He was pleased to know that they had similar effects on each other. "What do you want?"

"You."

Their lips came together and the tension in his body broke. Their arms wrapped around each other tightly, pressing them closer together. The kiss was chaste at first, annoyingly so. He wanted more. He needed more. And it was obvious to him that Hannibal did too. Why were they always playing this particular part of the game? Denying themselves and each other what they wanted. 

He fisted his hand in the other's hair, pressing him closer and deepening their kiss. And Hannibal _growled._

_Finally._

Their kisses became more insistent, more demanding. He let his hands travel lower, feeling Hannibal's back and the muscles that tensed and flexed with the other's movements. Hannibal mirrored him, letting his hands travel lower. Their position couldn't have been comfortable for Hannibal who's lower back was digging into the counter behind him. He felt himself growing more insistent, demanding, as he pressed closer to Hannibal, rutting against him and fisting his hands in the fabric of his clothes. The other's teeth grazed his lower lip causing him to gasp. He took full advantage of the situation, claiming Will's mouth with his tongue. Hannibal pushed off the counter, moving them through the kitchen until Will's back collided with a wall. He groaned into Hannibal's mouth while his hands gripped the edge of his pants, pressing his lower body closer. Will forced Hannibal's suit jacket back, allowing himself better access to the other while not letting the jacket fall to the floor. Their kisses were sloppier as Will busied himself with unbuttoning the top buttons of Hannibal's shirt. 

He wasn't certain they would make it to the bedroom. He doubted Hannibal would be all right with having sex in the kitchen, though he wondered if he would be more inclined to have sex on his dining room table. Will pushed himself away from the wall, but Hannibal pushed him right back. He wanted to complain, but Hannibal kept control of his mouth while letting his hands drift lower. The other bent slightly and Will knew what was going to happen before it did. Just as Hannibal's hands hooked around his thighs, Will jumped slightly, bringing his legs around the other's waist and pressing already hard lengths as close as they could be with layers of fabric between them. 

He broke away from their kiss as one arm wrapped around the other's shoulders and the other peeled back Hannibal's shirt, allowing him to kiss the skin just above the other's clavicle. Hannibal moved them through the house with ease which didn't surprise Will considering how many times he had moved and placed dead bodies. He pressed kisses against Hannibal's neck until he reached the pulse point he had grasped only minutes before. As they reached the stairs, Will let himself down. Hannibal turned them slightly so he was walking up the stairs backward as their lips met once more. Will followed him willingly. He continued working on the buttons of Hannibal's shirt and vest before he finally managed to expose his torso. They reached what he assumed was Hannibal's bedroom as his hands moved through the hair on the other's chest. 

They turned once more as the door shut, Will pressing Hannibal against it. Unlike with his shirt, Will wasted no time undoing the other's belt and pants, pulling them and Hannibal's boxers out of the way. They kissed once more before Will began trailing kisses down the other's body, slowly lowering himself onto his knees. He kept his eyes focused on the other's seeing the heat and longing that had worked their way into his amber depths. He kissed each of Hannibal's hip bones before moving inward, trailing kisses along his pelvis. 

Hannibal's hands flattened against the door. Will looked up, seeing his nearly still completely covered torso and smiled slightly. Unlike Hannibal, Will was still dressed. 

He maintained eye contact with the other as he let his tongue flick out and run over the other's length. Hannibal's breathing increased and his eyes widened just a fraction. Will repeated the movement before flicking his tongue over the head of the other's cock. Hannibal was still doing his best to control himself and on another night, Will was going to see how far that control truly extended. But not tonight. He gripped the other's hips as he took him in his mouth, hearing a moan echo above him. He hallowed his cheeks, sucking slowly as he moved his mouth slowly over the other's length. His tongue trailed over him as best he could given the other's impressive girth before taking him as far as he could. Hannibal moaned again, a hand fisting in Will's hair. He began slowly increasing his movements, sometimes taking him to the root and other times exchanging depth for speed. Hannibal didn't force him, only kept his hand at the back of his head. A constant reminder. 

Saliva pooled in his mouth as his hands tightened on the other's hips. There very well would be bruises in the morning. He doubted that would be the last of them. He bobbed his head more, sucking and letting his tongue run over the other's length. Hannibal's moans increased with Will's movements. He could feel Hannibal tensing above him as his hand fisted more in Will's hair, pulling slightly. He felt a vicious satisfaction rush through him as Hannibal's body tensed more, likely on the edge of his orgasm, just as Will pulled away. 

Hannibal's head hit the door slightly as his body relaxed just slightly.

"Wicked boy."

Will's lips twitched slightly as he stood. "And what will you do about it?"

Unlike Will, Hannibal was not careful with his clothes, tearing open his shirt as his clothes fell into a pile on the floor. Hannibal was not gentle as he pulled his clothes from him and Will didn't want him to be. Their lips met again as they moved toward the bed, hands roaming everywhere. He fell back onto a rather soft comforter, shifting up the bed as best he could with Hannibal still claiming his mouth. The other followed him, pressing his hands onto the bed on either side of Will's head. He didn't let his weight sink though, didn't press them together. After a moment, he pulled away and turned Will swiftly. 

Hannibal's lips and teeth trailed down his back as Will shifted slightly, making himself more comfortable on the bed. His mind drifted for a moment to what it would be like to wake up in Hannibal's bed in the morning before the other's teeth sunk into the flesh of his lower back, making him arch slightly. Hannibal continued downward until Will felt hot breath graze over his ass. He had only ever done this less than a handful of times and normally he was the one giving. The other wasted no time taking what he wanted and Will's body arched. Hannibal's tongue ran over his rim before his tongue pressed inside Will. He moaned slightly, burying his face in soft pillows. The other licked into him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against him. His hands fisted in the comforter. 

The other's movements began to speed before Will felt a finger press slowly into him. He hummed slightly, feeling the other begin to pick up the pace. Pleasure built in his gut, compounding with every movement. After however long, the other added another finger, pumping into him slowly and stretching him. His tongue darted between his fingers as he moved, making Will groan more into the pillows. Hannibal added a third finger. He was starting to shake with the other's movements, feeling his untouched cock press against the comforter with no relief. Hannibal shifted on the bed, kissing up his back while his fingers continued their movements. He shifted just slightly, grazing Will's prostate and he let out a choked moan. Hannibal shifted his legs apart slightly, sliding his leg between them as he pressed his chest against Will's back. He felt his other hand move over Will's body before he grasped his throat, pulling him upward. Will struggled to balance himself on the bed as his body arched. His hips were partially pinned by Hannibal's while his torso was pulled upward slightly, Hannibal grasping his throat. His other hand never stopped its movements, every now and then grazing his prostate. One of his hands grasped Hannibal's wrist, holding it in place. He could hear Hannibal's breathing in his ear, feel him against his back, feel the strength and yet restraint of the hand at his throat. 

Will felt himself nearing the edge and Hannibal stopped. He felt himself let out a groan of frustration as he was lowered to the bed gently, Hannibal pressing fully against him. Part of him was grateful. That wasn't how he wanted to fall over that edge. And that wasn't how Hannibal wanted to fall over the edge either. Hannibal's teeth sunk into his shoulder and Will moaned slightly, reaching behind him and pressing Hannibal's head more against him. 

After a moment, Hannibal let go and shifted the two of them so they were face to face once again. Their lips collided as he shifted himself, letting Hannibal settle between his legs. The other reached over and pulled lube from his bedside table, wasting no time to slick himself up. Will shifted slightly, wrapping his legs around Hannibal. He pressed inward slowly and Will marveled yet again at Hannibal's size. He pushed forward slowly until he was fully seated, both of them breathing heavily with their current position. Hannibal finally let his full weight press against Will and Will wrapped his arms around him, keeping him close. 

Hannibal looked at him, his gaze open and awe-struck. Will shifted his head slightly to look at him better and his heart flipped in his chest. 

Was he in love with Hannibal Lecter?

Their gazes stayed locked as the other began to move shifting in and out of Will. The pleasure from before began to build once again as he ran one hand through Hannibal's hair. The other's movements began to increase, shifting slightly to unrelentingly press against his prostate. Their foreheads pressed together as pleasure began to move through him in waves. The air between them was filled with wanton moans and grunts. His nails dug into Hannibal's shoulder as their lips came together once more. The hand he had fisted in Hannibal's hair tightened as Hannibal's fingers threaded through his hair, holding tightly. It was almost as though he thought Will was going to vanish from under him and for a wild moment, Will thought Hannibal might vanish.

But he wouldn't. He was here and so was Hannibal and they finally, finally, had each other. 

"Don't let me go," Will whispered against the other's lips.

"Never," Hannibal answered before reclaiming his lips in a kiss once again. 

Their bodies rocked together as Hannibal's movements increased, becoming more insistent and chasing the orgasm they were both building to. Will's moans became choppier, forced from him at every thrust as Hannibal panted against him. He could feel himself nearing that edge once again and god was he ready to fall over. He was ready for Hannibal to drag him over. But Hannibal had other ideas. He was certain Hannibal was at the edge once again before his movements stilled and he pulled from Will. He kissed him once again. Their cocks rubbed together between them and Will practically whined. He _needed_ this and Hannibal was torturing them both. Something they both seemed to be excellent at.

Hannibal was breathing heavily as he pressed his face into Will's neck, inhaling slightly. Then he pulled back and turned, grabbing the discarded lube bottle once more and pressing it into Will's hand. He understood immediately what Hannibal wanted. 

They shifted once more.

Will didn't take as much time readying Hannibal as the other had done him, but he didn't rush either. He wouldn't hurt him. Not in this way. Only if the other asked and he knew Hannibal would do the same. He would consent to bleed at his touch, but not this touch. Hannibal was far more impatient than he let on as a flash in his eyes told Will he was ready.

Will lined himself up and pressed inward slowly. He was on fire. He was electrified. Every nerve in his body was on high alert and every thought in his mind ceased. It was only him and it was only Hannibal. He pressed forward until he was seated fully in the other, waiting for a moment to give him a chance to adjust.

"Please."

The word was so quiet that Will almost missed it. He turned slightly, meeting Hannibal's eyes and he knew what he had said. 

He began shifting slightly, slowly at first. He rolled his hips, watching Hannibal's body twitch with the movements until he found his prostate. He wasn't going to stop this time, he was going to let them fall. And he could tell Hannibal knew it too. He began thrusting faster, lowering himself against Hannibal. The other's arms wrapped around him, one hand fisting in his hair and the other wrapped just beneath his ribs. Will gripped one of his shoulders while his other hand gripped Hannibal's hair in return. His movements became faster, needier, seeing that Hannibal needed it as much as him. He needed Will as much as Will needed him. Their lips came together again, exchanging moans as though they were breathing life into the other. 

Their lips broke apart as he was nearing that edge once again. He thrust faster, relentlessly, feeling every moan ripple through Hannibal's chest. He buried his face in the other's neck, finding his pulse point once more and biting and sucking into it. Hannibal's mouth came to the skin of his shoulder, mirroring him. They were marking each other, claiming each other. 

With a final thrust, he buried himself in the other and fell over the edge. Hannibal was right behind him, their bodies tensing and grasping each other.

He wasn't certain he would ever completely come down from his high, especially knowing that Hannibal had caused it. 

He didn't really remember what happened next. He didn't remember either of them cleaning up. He didn't remember Hannibal leading him back to bed. He didn't remember the whispered confession in the dark. 

All he remembered was falling asleep in Hannibal's arms, a place he was surprisingly content to stay. 


	18. Chapter 18

When Hannibal woke, he was alone in the bed. The bed next to him was still warm, suggesting that Will had only left the bed a few minutes before. He rolled onto his back a little surprised that someone else woke up as early as he did. Early mornings were more productive than later ones. Not that he had much to do today. If he had his way, it would be him and Will only today. As he rolled, he caught a glimpse of the other standing by the window. He straightened himself in the bed, shifting pillows and blanket. Will likely knew he was awake, but the other was still watching something out the window. He had stolen a pair of Hannibal's pajama pants but didn't bother to cover his chest. Hannibal could see the marks he had left in the other the night before and something in him hummed contently at knowing Will was marked as his. 

"What are you thinking about?" He asked. 

"Nominative determinism." 

Hannibal grabbed the pillow next to him and threw it half-heartedly at Will's head. He normally wasn't nearly as playful with his lovers, but Will always seemed to bring out different sides of him. Will caught the feathery projectile before it could hit him and looked down at it with amusement.

"Did you just throw a pillow at me?"

"You just called me a cannibal because of my name." 

Will grinned wolfishly before moving over to the bed. He threw the pillow back into its original position before climbing onto the bed and settling atop Hannibal. He was trapped under the sheets and Will's weight as the other sat on his hips. He leaned forward, caging Hannibal's head with his hands pressed against the headboard. 

"You have to know that eventually, someone will call you 'Hannibal the Cannibal.' Your name sets you up for that little play on words." 

"Perhaps." He wrapped his arms around the other, pulling him closer. Will's hands fell to his shoulders. "But that's not my concern at the moment." 

He rolled them so Will was pressed against the bed and Hannibal over him. He freed himself from the sheets and claimed the other's mouth. Will kissed him back, wrapping his arms around him to pull him closer. Their kisses were slow and lazy but equally as passionate as the night before. Their bodies were pressed together, fitting perfectly like puzzle pieces. He let his hands travel down Will's body until he reached the edge of the pajama pants. 

"It's rude to take something that doesn't belong to you." He whispered, peppering kisses against Will's neck. 

Will hummed slightly, his hand finding its way to Hannibal's hair. "You belong to me. I didn't see the harm in using your clothes." He could almost feel the smile that crossed Will's lips briefly. "Again."

He pressed a kiss against one of the marks on Will's shoulder. "Possessive are we?"

"Aren't you?" Will's head turned slightly, pressing a kiss against his temple.

He reached, grasping Will's hands and pinning them to the bed above his head. Their fingers laced together. He hovered just over Will, searching his eyes. Will searched his in return. 

"If I am to be yours, and only yours, shouldn't you then be only mine?" He dipped his head, pressing a soft kiss against Will's lips. "I am possessive too. What's mine is mine. And I don't give up my possessions easily. I am covetous. And jealous." Their lips met against and this time Will took his chance to capture Hannibal's lower lip between his teeth. 

"You seem to be under the impression that I would let myself belong to anyone else." 

Hannibal smirked slightly, pressing a kiss against the other's cheek. "I find communication to be a part of a healthy relationship." 

Will chuckled slightly. "There's nothing healthy here, Hannibal." Will rolled them, keeping their hands linked but moving to straddle Hannibal's hips once more. "Neither of us is truly built for a healthy relationship. You are my obsession, Hannibal Lecter." He kissed the mark he left against the pulse point in Hannibal's neck. "We're possessive, manipulative, terrifying people," He accentuated each word with small nips over his shoulder. "With far too many intense emotions to ever truly be healthy." Hannibal swallowed thickly. "But we are good. Together." He let go of one of Hannibal's hands to cup his cheek and press a rather bruising kiss to his lips. "And for each other." Their linked hands tightened. "I understand, Hannibal." The words were whispered. "And you understand. Do we need anything more than that and each other?"

Hannibal used his now free hand to run through Will's curls. He thought of the night before and the confession he wasn't certain Will heard. 

Will searched his eyes. "I'm in love with you, Hannibal." 

He felt himself smile. Maybe Will hadn't heard, but he knew anyway. "And I'm in love with you." 

"Then I'm yours." 

"And I'm yours." 

Their lips came together again, bodies grinding together, and linked hands pressed to the bed. 

He didn't bother truly dressing for breakfast. He slid on a pair of pants and a sweater. Will used another sweater, the two of them matching quite well. The other helped him with breakfast, the two of them moving in sync as they prepared their food and coffee. He didn't bother sitting across the table from Will as he normally did, instead sitting closer to him. Their legs brushed under the table, and looks were exchanged between them. It was strange, sitting at the table with someone just as dangerous as he was and yet had softened their hardest edges for him. Normally, he had to soften his edges for others, and he had for Will, but there was never someone who soften their edges for him. Who was as sharp in the same places as he was. Who was as dangerous in the same ways as he was. And who he had given himself over to as completely as they gave themselves. 

A phone rang and Hannibal knew immediately it was Will's but the other ignored it. The first time anyway. He sighed and apologized, wandering through the house to find his phone and return to the table.

"Good morning, Mother." He sat down at the table and took a sip of his coffee. 

Hannibal didn't have any family. The only people in the world who truly mattered to him were Will and Abigail, and one of them was already at the table. 

Will froze with his coffee cup halfway back to the table. 

"Do you have a tablet or computer available?" Will asked, looking over at Hannibal. He put the phone down on the table, turning on the speaker. 

"There's a tablet in the study." 

Will stood and left to find it.

"Good morning, Hannibal." Frances's voice came through the speaker.

"Good morning, Madame." He greeted. 

"As Will's mother, I feel it is my responsibility to give you the same warning I gave him." He waited for her to speak again. "You're dangerous for each other. One wrong move and you'll tear each other apart." He was about to confirm that he knew that when she continued. "This morning might just be the first test of your new relationship." 

So, she knew about Hannibal and Will's now romantic involvement. But how?

Will returned, glaring at the screen as though he could make it explode under his gaze. He returned to his chair and after a moment, set the tablet down for Hannibal to see. 

There were two pictures at the top of the article. One was of Will and Hannibal clearly in a romantic embrace, arms wrapped around each other and lips locked together. The other was just after he had picked the other up, his legs wrapped around Hannibal's waist and Hannibal's shirt partially undone. There was no denying that the relationship between them was intimate, sexual, in nature. It amused him that they were so wrapped in each other that they didn't notice Freddie Lounds outside taking pictures. A shared look between them said that they knew Freddie had only seen them after their interaction took a different direction. A picture of Will's hand around his throat and Hannibal's knife pressed against his abdomen would have generated something far more scandalous than Freddie's current article. 

"Tell me again why I haven't yet?" 

"I have no logical reason why now," Frances said through the speaker. They were talking about killing Freddie, but Will was smart enough not to say it outright over an open phone line. "But you know it will just continue to cast suspicion on you and Hannibal." 

Will looked over at him, those ocean-eyes trapping Hannibal easily. It should worry him that Will could likely talk him into and out of anything with just a look. He knew what the other was thinking just from his look and he was honestly more excited than he should be. He knew what Will wanted, and Hannibal wanted it too. What else could be more intimate than that? What else could they do to bind themselves together than through blood?

Will's brows furrowed for a second. "Your career-" He began.

"I was never officially your psychiatrist." He raised his hand, brushing his fingers over Will's cheek, unable to stop himself from physically acknowledging Will's concern over his career. The other leaned into the touch. 

"I'll leave you two to discuss amongst yourselves," Frances said. The line beeped, indicating her departure from the conversation. But Hannibal and Will were too focused on each other to notice. 

"Are you certain?" Will asked him, reaching for his hand. "There will be no turning back after this."

Hannibal could see the potential possibilities flying through Will's mind behind his cunning eyes and he came to a sudden and rather painful realization. Will was thinking about taking the fall for him, for taking on the weight of the Chesapeake Ripper alone and letting Hannibal escape. He would be honest that the same thought had crossed his mind too. But his realization came in the form of him realizing he wouldn't want to be apart from the other. He was already too lost. 

"Jack will figure it out. Freddie already pointed him in the right direction. It won't take much more for him to realize she was right." 

"What do you want to do?" 

"I want to share this with you." Will pulled him closer. They ignored the table between them, working around it until they were side by side. "I don't want to kill Jack. He's a good man, Hannibal." He nodded his understanding. 

"We can run. Just leave." 

"I'll go wherever you are." Will pressed a kiss to his hand. They were both lost then. "But there are things that must be taken care of first." 

"You want Freddie." Hannibal already knew this but he wanted Will's confirmation.

"I want Freddie." He sighed and their foreheads pressed together. "And I want to introduce Abigail to my mother. She'll need someone after we've gone."

"We don't have to leave her." 

"I won't force her into this life. I won't." He looked at him again. "It's you and I. If she wants us in her life, she can choose it. With my mother, she'll have someone to watch out for her. And someone to help her find us if she wants."

"And what about your mother?" 

"They'll both be in good hands." 

"If we do this, there will be no separation for us. This is the last chance to turn back."

Will looked up at him, their gazes meeting. "I've had my chances. And I can't let you go." 

"Nor I you." 

Will kissed him, a kiss that somehow gentle and harsh all at once. 

"To the end then, my love." He said.

"To the end." Will agreed.


	19. Chapter 19

Will hummed along with whatever song was currently playing on the radio. But he didn't quite hear it. He was lost somewhere in his mind and the road. Roads were interesting. Such perfect metaphors could be made using roads. "Highway to hell" for instance. That compared with "stairway to heaven." Hell was easy to reach. Heaven was a stretch. Will didn't believe in either heaven or hell, but he knew Hannibal believed in God. Perhaps, then Hannibal's God had given them a chance to find heaven for themselves. His mind jumped from thought to thought as he continued his drive. He continued tapping a beat on the steering wheel until finally, he turned into a familiar parking lot. 

Abigail was already outside when he arrived. She and Marissa, Abigail's friend, were talking, their heads bent close to each other. Their hands were linked between them and Will repressed a smirk. He stayed in the car, waiting patiently for Abigail to finish her conversation. She looked over her friend's shoulder, glancing at Will in the car. Her face flamed briefly and then Will did smirk. She returned to her conversation, pressing closer to Marissa so Will couldn't read their lips. Not that he cared. She seemed happy having her friend there and that wasn't something he would interfere with. He watched as they pulled themselves apart, only to return into a hug. Will watched as their linked hands eventually fell apart. Marissa returned to her car and Abigail moved toward Will's.

Abigail sat next to him, pulling on the seatbelt quietly. He looked over at her, watching her face. 

"I'm going to have to let her go, aren't I?" She asked quietly.

"No." He tried to catch her gaze but she was staring somewhere in front of her. He reached over and gently turned her face so their eyes could meet. "You don't have to. I would never ask that of you." 

"What are you going to do?" He let her chin go but she stayed looking at him. "I saw Freddie's article." Will didn't answer and he watched as understanding bloomed in Abigail's eyes. "You're going to kill her." 

He nodded. 

"Then what?"

He started the car and pulled from the parking lot. "Then Hannibal and I are leaving." He said quietly. 

They were silent for a moment, low music playing between them. "And what about me?"

Will smirked. "I'm not leaving you alone." He glanced over at her, seeing tears forming in her eyes. As they stopped at a light, he turned, reaching over to brush the tears from her cheeks. "I promise. That's actually where we're going today." 

She nodded slightly. The rest of the car ride was silent. It wasn't a long ride from the facility to Richmond where Will's mother had been staying for the last couple of weeks. Will pulled into the driveway of the house, seeing Abigail's eyes widen out of the corner of his eye. He smiled slightly.

"You're like _rich_ rich." She said quietly next to him. 

"Yep." He said quietly before standing from the car. 

"I am so underdressed," Abigail muttered looking up in awe at the house. 

Will laughed quietly. "Well, I don't agree, but if you are unhappy with your wardrobe that can be fixed." 

Abigail's eyes widened slightly, and Will couldn't help but enjoy her excitement. They walked toward the door. It was unlocked, his mother had known that they were coming. He held the door open for Abigail as she walked in, eyes wide. Her bright blue eyes bounced over everything, starstruck. Will chuckled slightly, ushering her further into the house. 

"Mother!" He called and Abigail tensed next to him.

"I'm meeting your mother?" Her voice betrayed her sudden concern. "I'm way underdressed." 

He chuckled slightly, patting her shoulder. Before he could say anything, his mother swept into the room. Today she was dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a crimson flowing shirt. Her heels clicked on the wood floor as she walked into the room. Her eyes were framed by dark make-up and her lips were dark red from lipstick. She smiled widely as she entered the room, her hair flowing around her shoulders which shifted as she spread her arms welcomingly. 

"My dear," She greeted, walking toward Abigail. "I'm so glad to finally meet you." 

She pulled Abigail into her arms, hugging her closely. Abigail still looked starstruck as she had when she entered, folding herself into his mother's arms. His mother pulled back slightly, cupping Abigail's face in her hands and kissing her forehead lightly.

"I've heard great things about you." She turned to look at Will, a soft smile on her face. "My son quite adores you." She turned back to Abigail. "I will help you in any way I can."

Abigail stuttered, opening and closing her mouth similar to a goldfish. "I'm sorry." She said eventually. "I'm just-"

"Overwhelmed." His mother supplied.

"Yes," Abigail answered. 

His mother wrapped an arm around Abigail's shoulders, moving them through the house. "Not to worry, my dear." They moved to the patio where his mother deposited Abigail in a rather large chair and sat on her left. Will sat on Abigail's right, watching the two of them. 

It took very little time for Abigail and his mother to start in on a conversation that moved too quickly for Will to follow. Instead, he watched them. Food came during the conversation. Will smiled to himself as Abigail laughed, genuinely, at something his mother said. He sipped a glass of whiskey as they spoke, his eyes roaming over the grounds of the house hearing them in the background. Part of him longed to have Hannibal and Margot join them, the only other important people in Will's life. He wasn't quite certain how Margot and Abigail would get along, but he was curious. It was interesting to him that the most important women in his life all had similar personalities. They were attracted to the darkness, but not a part of it. Unlike Hannibal, who stood in the dark with him. 

"I'm curious," His mother said, making Will return to the conversation. "My son hasn't said much about your relationship with him. I know you met on a case and you have helped him since, but I'm wondering what you think of your relationship." 

Will kept his face neutral as he watched the gears turn in Abigail's head. She looked over at him, indecision quickly being replaced by decisiveness. He raised an eyebrow as she turned back toward his mother. 

"He's like my father."

Will smiled to himself.

"And what of Hannibal Lecter?"

Abigail turned back to Will. "I guess he's kinda my father too." She cocked her head. "Since that Freddie Lounds article." Abigail turned back to his mother and then to Will once again. There was a question in her eyes and Will nodded.

"She knows." 

Abigail sighed slightly, relieved. "You said you were leaving." The statement wasn't news to anyone at the table but Will nodded anyway. "Why kill Freddie before then?"

Will smirked slightly. "Freddie is a lot like me. Except she doesn't turn to the same things I do to control my impulses. She twists the truth, turning it into whatever can create the best story. That's her tie to darkness, manipulation. She controls what her readers see and what they are privy to. If I left with Freddie Lounds still running around, who will she come for next? You? The daughter of the Minnesota Shrike and ward of notorious serial killers Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, the Chesapeake Ripper. My mother? Hannibal's patients? My friend, Margot? No one would be safe if I left with Freddie still around. She would hound you, trying to trap you into contracts that would mean she would own you. Freddie is dangerous in her own right. I admire her in that regard. But I will not leave you all to deal with her."

"I can handle Miss Lounds," His mother said, a gleam in her sky-colored eyes. 

"I'm well aware," He smiled slightly. "And I would enjoy seeing you and Freddie Lounds in the same room. I'm not quite certain Freddie would leave it alive." 

His mother smiled slightly then raised an eyebrow. "But it is not just me you are concerned for." 

"No."

His mother's eyes flitted to Abigail. "I never thought I would have a granddaughter. I thought perhaps my line ended with you." She grasped Abigail's hand, running her thumb over the back of it. "I'd be glad to call you my granddaughter if you would let me."

A tear slid from Abigail's eye as she nodded vigorously, seemingly no trusting her voice. 

Will wished once again that Hannibal was there. 

Before anyone could say any more, his phone began to ring. 

"Excuse me," He said before pulling the phone from his pocket and stood, walking away. "Hello?" 

"Hello, Will." He couldn't help but smile at hearing Hannibal's voice. "Have I interrupted something?" 

Will looked over his shoulder to where his mother and Abigail were still talking. "No. I introduced Abigail and my mother."

"How did that go?" 

"They're getting along spectacularly." 

He could almost see Hannibal's smile. "I thought they might."

"What can I do for you, Hannibal?" 

"I was planning on inviting you for dinner, but if you are busy I understand."

"What if it was a dinner for four?" 

"Of course, Will." Will's heart jumped. "What time can I expect the three of you?" 

"Seven?" 

"I will see you then."

"Yes." He breathed, unwilling to stop hearing the other's voice. 

"Will," Hannibal's voice was quiet. "I will see you tonight. Perhaps you would like to stay?" 

He swallowed thickly. "Yes." He whispered again. 

"Goodbye, Will." 

"Goodbye."

He walked back toward Abigail and his mother who looked up at his return. 

"How is Hannibal?" His mother asked before taking a sip of tea.

"Ask him yourself when we see him for dinner." 

"We?" Abigail asked. 

"Oui, ma fille." 

Abigail raised an eyebrow but his mother smiled wistfully.

The next few hours passed quickly, with his mother taking Abigail to find buy clothes while Will busied himself with cases. Eventually, he drove to Hannibal's house, knowing his mother and Abigail would meet him there. Will arrived only seconds after Hannibal, the two of them exiting their cars and into each other's arms. Their lips met in the space between them, Will gripping Hannibal almost too tightly. 

"I'm glad you decided to arrive early," Hannibal whispered. 

He hummed in response, the two of them wrapped in each other as they moved toward the door. He didn't care who saw them as they stood on Hannibal's front stoop, while the other did his best to open the door with Will trapping his lips. The one arm that wasn't around Will opened the door, but Hannibal didn't move them inside. Will finally pulled himself away, a question waiting on his lips that he knew he didn't have to speek. 

"Someone else is here."

They exchanged a look, gazes saying what words couldn't between them. They stepped into the house together, finally letting go of each other. There was nothing inherently out of place, but Will could tell too that something was off. He and Hannibal moved in step, their monsters moving as easily as the men. His eyes darted all over, searching. It was dangerous for someone to have entered this house, even if only Hannibal was the one to return. Will's body tensed, sensing a kill and the thrill of sharing it with Hannibal. 

The other moved one direction while he continued straight, the two of them completely in tune. He knew they were coming to closer to whoever else was in the house, a person they would soon trap between them. Will's heart slowed in his chest, his eyesight seemed to become sharper. He was completely focused in front of him. 

He moved around one wall, finally spotting a head of bright red hair. This wasn't how he wanted to kill Freddie Lounds. He had other ideas where he and Hannibal could take their time. But Freddie had delivered herself to her death willingly, and Will wasn't going to pass up this chance. He waited until he caught a glimpse of Hannibal at the door on the other side of the room before he stepped inward, out of the shadows.

"Hello, Freddie."


	20. Chapter 20

Freddie stared at Will, her eyes wide for only a fraction of a second before the settled into satisfaction. 

"So fast?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "I would have thought you and Lecter would wait a little longer before moving in together." 

Will smirked. "I'm here for dinner."

"We would love to have you," Hannibal continued, stepping from the shadows behind Freddie. 

She whirled quickly, turning her back to Will and focusing on the other. Her shoulders were tense, almost up to her ears. She was ready to run. Freddie had once speculated that the reason the Ripper was so fascinated with Will and Hannibal was that the Ripper was, in fact, Hannibal and Will. But as she turned to look at Hannibal behind her, Will could see that she thought him the bigger threat. And only then, did she begin to realize her mistake. Hannibal stood calmly, his hands folded behind his back and his amber eyes carefully hiding his intent. But Will could see the tension in his body, he could see the way he held himself. It was like watching a panther ready to strike, as it rolled its shoulders and lowered its head. Hannibal Lecter, in all his vicious glory, was beautiful as he stood across the room from Will, Freddie Lounds sandwiched between them. 

Freddie turned slightly. Her bright eyes found Will once more, who cocked his head to one side in a silent question. Freddie pleaded with him silently. She wanted to leave and she thought, perhaps for a moment, that Will didn't see the monster across the room as she did. But he saw him, he saw them both. Freddie all but begged him to let her go. She wanted to live. He watched the fear build in her eyes as Hannibal moved silently on the other side of the room, stepping closer. 

For a moment, he thought about indulging her, letting her run. He would enjoy giving chase. The sun would be below the horizon in minutes, the last remnants of light gone as the world plunged into darkness. Maybe people would see Freddie's bright hair as she ran from Hannibal's house. 

No.

He couldn't let her go. He couldn't risk her managing to escape. Or worse, someone seeing him and Hannibal. Not yet. The world couldn't know who they were just yet. Will had hoped that he and Hannibal could take this night to plan the death of Freddie. Their first hunt together. This was rather impromptu, something he wasn't exactly a fan of. His mother had drilled into him preparedness. And while he was one to act on impulse from time to time, this was utterly impulsive. 

Who else knew Freddie Lounds had decided to visit Hannibal's house this night? Who had seen her? Who knew? How much risk were they putting themselves in if they didn't let her go? How much more risk were they putting themselves in if they did? 

Freddie was a risk. 

He rolled his shoulders as his mind finally came to a conclusion. 

Freddie still pleaded with him for another moment. 

_You're not a murderer._ Her eyes said. _I will leave you alone if you let me leave now._ He watched the thoughts fly behind her eyes. _He will kill us both._

If only she knew. 

The front door opened once more, followed by shuffling and muffled conversation. His mother and Abigail had arrived. 

How long had the three of them been standing there? How long had they debated about their next course of action?

"Where is everyone?" His mother asked into the silent house. 

It didn't take her and Abigail long to find her. His mother came to his left while Abigail moved to his right. Hannibal stayed across the room. Freddie was trapped.

"Ah," His mother said. "I see."

The fear in Freddie's eyes was replaced with hope, momentarily. Certainly, she wouldn't die with two, or three, witnesses there. Certainly, between Will's mother and Abigail, she would be let go if Will himself didn't do it. He glanced at Abigail out of the corner of his eye. She was calm, watching. She knew what was likely about to happen, and she had accepted it. He could see it. He glanced at his mother next. She tucked a strand of grey hair behind her ear and turned toward Will.

"Darling," She said quietly. "How many times do I have to tell you?" Will could feel a smirk beginning to cross his face. Hannibal twitched on the other side of the room.

"Don't play with your food."

He turned to Freddie, watching the hope fade from her eyes.

He lunged.

* * *

_The space between Will and Hannibal blurred. Who was who, it didn't matter. Whose hand wrapped around Freddie didn't matter. Whose hands took her life, forced the light from her bright eyes didn't matter. They were one and the same as Freddie's life faded. They were one and the same in the space between them. Their kills no longer belonged to only one of them. It was both of them. Will was the Ripper and Hannibal was the Ripper. Hannibal was Il Mostro, and Will was Il Mostro. All of Will's kills belonged to Hannibal and all of Hannibal's kills belonged to Will. The space between them wasn't for anyone else._

_It was for the beautiful beast that had finally taken shape between them. It was for both of them._

_It was Will Graham._

_And it was Hannibal Lecter._

_It was both, it was neither. It was a god created out of darkness. It was the devil come to earth. It was death itself and all who crossed it met their end._

* * *

Hannibal didn't bother with Freddie. If it were anyone else, he might want to enjoy the kill with Will. But he had watched those beautiful ocean-colored eyes dance from across the room. He wanted to watch. He wanted to see Will, truly see him for the first time. Freddie went down without much of a fight. The snap of her neck echoed through the room as Will turned, watching her body fall to the floor. 

He was beautiful. What god had managed to forge him was a mystery to Hannibal, but he had been forged.

And he was Hannibal's and Hannibal's alone. 

Abigail didn't so much as flinch as Will lunged forward, and her eyes looked almost curious as she stared down at the body of Freddie Lounds. Frances looked vaguely amused. Hannibal approached Will as he stared down at the body on the floor. Will reached for him, their fingers lacing as he stepped up to Will's side. 

"That explains why dinner is not ready." Frances looked up at the two of them, amusement still evident on her face. 

"My apologies," Hannibal answered.

"What will you do with her?" Abigail asked. 

Will finally looked up then, first glancing at his mother and then Abigail, before finally turning to Hannibal. His eyes were filled with relief. Hannibal felt his lips twitching slightly. If he had to guess, Will had never killed in front of his mother before and certainly never in front of Abigail. But they accepted it so easily, that Hannibal almost felt Will's relief as it radiated from him. He reached up, brushing his fingertips over the other's cheek, a small gestured but he knew Will understood it. He turned back to Freddie and then shrugged.

"What would you like to do?" 

Abigail's eyes flitted back upward, her face showing mixed emotions, chief among them surprise.

Will lifted his head to look at her. His hand tightened on Hannibal's. "I once told you that I won't make you do anything you don't want to." He paused for a moment. "But you're curious." 

"I-" She paused, thoughts flying behind her eyes. "Yes."

Frances cleared her throat. "This is all well and good, but I was promised dinner. Bodies can be dealt with when the night has set in fully." 

Will grinned then and Hannibal was certain his heart skipped a beat. How smitten he was for this man. Mischa, at least the version of her that occupied his mind, had been right. And when Will looked back at him, his eyes were filled with the same emotion that now ran through Hannibal in earnest. 

Dinner was a lively event, livelier even than the party that had led him to Will Graham in the first place. Hannibal and Will sat on one side of the table so closer their shoulders could brush if they moved the right way. Across from Will was his mother. She was less stoic than every other time Hannibal had seen her. He wondered if she had accepted him then. She had certainly accepted Abigail, who sat across from Hannibal. Her face was constantly breaking out into a face splitting grin at whatever joke Will offered. As for Will himself, he seemed more at peace than Hannibal had ever seen him. Hannibal found himself smiling, truly smiling, when Will let out a rather loud and boyish laugh. He had never seen this side of the other. He had seen the killer, he had seen the artist, he saw the cunning man with the bright eyes, even the one who teased Abigail by dragging her onto the dance floor. But never had he seen this one. The one comfortable in his own skin and those around him. The one who was open in most ways. He mused that Frances must have seen this before. 

But never Hannibal. 

What a strange feeling this was.

To see every part of someone and to love them anyway. To feel something he hadn't truly felt in years. 

Home.

Will and Abigail traded words across the table joined now and then by Frances who seemed to adopt Abigail as her own. Will reached for him, twining their fingers together on the table once more as he continued to talk about nothing in particular. It was banter, sentiments exchanged with no real wit or desire behind them. It was relaxed. It was calm. It was what he expected a family dinner might feel like. 

Will and his mother went on to fondly bicker about something while Hannibal grabbed the plates and returned to the kitchen. He felt a small smile cross his face as he put the final touches on dessert.

He didn't, however, quite have the opportunity to return as quickly as he thought.

Will followed him into the kitchen, his ocean-colored eyes completely focused on Hannibal. 

"You let me kill Freddie alone." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"No," Hannibal answered. Will stepped closer, eyebrow raised. He was watching Hannibal intently, as he always did. "I didn't need to kill her to share that with you. I wanted to see you and every bit of beauty within you." 

Will stepped closer, grasping Hannibal's hand and pulling him once again into his arms. He thought about their moment earlier, interrupted by Freddie's presence in his house. He wrapped his arms around the other and their foreheads pressed together. 

"I love you, Hannibal." 

Hannibal tilted his head slightly, pressing their lips together in the space between them. 

"I love you, Will."

Will smiled slightly, his eyes filling with a mischievous light. "Do you think we could do this?"

Hannibal didn't need to ask what Will meant. It was the question that Frances made certain they would have to answer. The question that lingered between them. Hannibal and Will were of the same darkness, their souls forged in the same fire. But there was always the risk that they could turn on each other. That they could consume each other until there was nothing left. How much had they shared so far? How much would they continue to share? Where did each end and the other begin? How close could they become without fully consuming one another? Without destroying one another?

But Hannibal knew his answer. They were forged from the same cloth, after all. He pressed the other against him. 

They could spend the rest of their lives together, the same darkness within them both, without the risk of consuming each other. Hannibal knew it for certain, especially after tonight. After watching Freddie's demise at Will's hand, and the strange feeling of satisfaction that normally came with his own kills but instead by watching a kill at Will's hand. They could share their darkness, they could see within one another and still keep from devouring one another. 

The same could not be said for everyone else. 

But Will was his. And he was Will's. He'd spend an eternity with him and it would still just be them. 

"This is all I ever wanted," He answered quietly. "For both of us." 

Will sighed contently. "It's beautiful." 

Their lips met once again.


	21. Chapter 21

Will, Hannibal, and Abigail stood at the top of a hill, shaded by trees in the early hours of the morning. All wore dark clothes, blending themselves into the shadows. They were the darkness. Below them rolled a wheelchair, fire lighting the road as it moved. Will stood with his hands in his pockets, watching as the flames disappeared into the parking garage, the structure lit from within. He exhaled slowly, turning toward the other two who stood next to him. 

"This isn't over." 

"I know." Hannibal was still looking forward as he spoke, watching as the flames flickered below them. 

Abigail, however, turned toward Will. She looked surprisingly at peace given what she knew. How far she had come from the girl who was shaking in his arms after her father tried to kill her. How far she had come from the girl wondering why her father wanted to kill her? She was strong, confident. But mostly, she was accepted. She had found two new fathers who traversed similar roads as her own, but the risk wasn't toward Abigail herself. Much like Will's mother, she was attracted to the darkness, but she wasn't of it. He suspected this was the closest she would ever dare move toward the darkness. Watching her surrogate father kill and helping dispose of the body. Her eyes searched his before turning forward once again.

"Now what do we do?"

" _You_ are going to go to class. You're going to finish school and go wherever you want for university without having Freddie Lounds looming over you. Maybe you'll spend more time with Marissa," Abigail's face reddened slightly at the other girl's name. "But you can do whatever you want." He found himself drifting back toward Hannibal, who was watching him now. "We still have one more loose end to tie up."

Hannibal's gaze was still on him as Will watched people begin to flood the parking garage.

"Jack will see this for what it is. An admission. He'll come for us." 

"He'll come for me." Hannibal corrected. "I doubt Jack thinks you're the Ripper. He'll see you as someone I manipulated. An innocent to my devil."

"Are you going to kill him?" Abigail asked.

"No," Will answered quickly. "No. Jack's a good person. I normally don't subscribe to the ideas of good and evil but Jack is good. He spent his life trying to catch killers, trying to do good. He may be a little overbearing at times, but his heart is always in the right place." He rolled his shoulders. 

"You admire him," Hannibal said quietly.

"Yes."

Hannibal didn't say anything else and neither did Will. They watched for a few moments longer before the three of them left, slipping into the shadows once more. 

Will drove to Margot's house later that day. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and was suppressing yawns like crazy. He didn't know Hannibal could lead all the lives he did. Will was plagued by sleep troubles, but even he needed more than a couple of hours to fully function. He hadn't been called in on Freddie Lounds's case which he knew would be the case. There was no way the news of her death hadn't found its way to Jack's desk. He and the BAU would take lead on the case, swooping in to steal the jurisdiction from the locals. As they had every right to. Given how the body was disposed of, put on display for the world to see, and the missing organs, it looked exactly like a Ripper victim. And the Ripper case was Jack's. 

But Will had more important things to deal with before he and Jack had what would likely be their final confrontation. 

He meant what he said to Hannibal and Abigail. He didn't want Jack dead. But there was no way he was leaving without Jack trying to find him. Maybe he could dissuade him. 

Will parked his car, yawning into another sip of coffee before he finally pulled himself from the car. He walked toward the front door of the Verger mansion, having been in it several times before. The door opened before he could reach it and there was Margot on the other side, stoic and calm but her arm wrapped in a sling.

Will's eyes narrowed at the sight, anger boiling within him. 

"Will, don't," Margot warned as he drew closer. 

He swallowed his anger slightly, reaching toward her good arm. She let him and less than a second later, he pulled her into a hug. Margot tucked herself into his embrace. He had been so wrapped in Hannibal and his own issues, he had forgotten for a split second that Margot had plenty of her own. And Will was furious. Margot's hand tightened in his shirt before they pulled apart slightly, Margot escorting him into the mansion. They walked toward Margot's wing of the house, several rooms and studies that were only hers. Mason's was on the other side of the house, the two of them as far apart as they could be all things considered. 

Margot sat in a large chair overlooking the yard, shifting slightly to take the pressure off of her arm. Will sat across from her, resting his coffee on the table next to him. 

"Tell me."

Margot sighed. She had to know this wasn't something he would let go.

"I tried to kill him." She shook her head. "It's just a sprain." 

"Like the scars on your back are just scars." 

Will was glad he set his coffee down. He was certain he might have destroyed the thermos as his hands clenched. 

"I'm glad I didn't." She said. Will raised an eyebrow. "Without him, I have nothing."

"I could take care of you." He answered. "You know my mother. You know me. Kill him, be done with it and I'll take care of you." 

Margot smiled at him. "I know you would." 

"Then please let me." He shifted forward in the chair. "I know I haven't exactly been here for you for the last few weeks, but you are my best friend. Let me help you." 

"You've been playing with the FBI like a cat with a mouse." She said with a fond smile. "And you've found yourself a new toy." 

"Not a toy." Margot raised an eyebrow. "That's part of the reason I came here today. I have some things to tell you." 

"Go on," She prompted.

"Not yet." His cogs were starting to turn. _Without him, I have nothing._ "Your father's will, it says specifically 'male heir' right?"

"Yes," Margot answered. 

"You need a son." Will stood. "Either your own or Mason's. You could harvest his sperm and find a surrogate." He ran his hand through his hair. "Then kill Mason. Without him in the picture, you would be in charge of the Verger inheritance until your son comes of age. And then he can change the will." 

"And are you offering?" Margot scoffed. They both knew that Will was reluctant to have kids. He was reluctant to unleash his traits on the world in the form of another. 

"For you, I would." He looked at her. "I'd have to talk Hannibal, but if that's what you needed-" He moved toward her, kneeling in front of her and resting a hand on her knee. "If you won't let me take care of you, then at least let me help you."

"You really would do that?" 

"Yes." She sighed, staring at the floor. "All you would need to do is confirm you're pregnant. And then you can kill him for real." 

"You wouldn't insist on doing it?" There was a smug smile on her lips.

"I would love to, believe me." His eyes flicked to her arm. "But he's not mine to kill."

"How would I even get away with it? I'd start gestating a baby in secret. And there's no guarantee it would be a boy." 

Will's mind offered him an answer. "I think I have the perfect alibi."

* * *

Will stood across the island from Hannibal, his eyes focused on the countertop as though it had the answers to the world written on it. There was something on Will's mind from the moment he stepped into Hannibal's house, the two of them finally alone for the first time in a little over a week. Hannibal busied himself with their dinner while Will stared. He was unusually quiet. Had it been anyone else he found himself in this situation with, any other partner who had seen him, he might have been worried that they were having second thoughts. But with Will, he knew that wasn't the case. There was something else on his mind. The psychiatrist in him wanted to poke and prod, to pull it from him and into the open. But another part of him, the long-dormant part that had been awoken by Will's existence, told him to wait. Will would speak when he was ready.

And so Hannibal waited. 

He didn't have to wait for long.

"Are there ways to ensure the sex of a child?" 

Another night, Hannibal might have started a conversation about sex and gender, but the look on Will's face stopped him. 

"Yes," He answered simply. 

"I have a friend," Will began, "My oldest friend." He tapped his fingers on the counter. "Margot and I practically grew up together. I've known her for longer than almost anyone else. She and her brother are heirs to the Verger Slaughterhouses. Or rather, her brother is." Will shook his head and Hannibal watched him as he continued dinner. "Their father was a real piece of work. Margot prefers women over men and Molson wasn't having it. He wrote her out of the will, left everything to Mason." He could hear the way Will said the other's name. He hated him.

"You want to free her from him." 

"I want her to be free for herself." 

"I sense you have an idea." 

Will smirked in response. "Not the one you're thinking of. Margot should kill Mason. She's already tried once."

"Was everything left to Mason specifically?" Hannibal asked. He was beginning to follow Will's train of thought.

"No." His fingers tapped the counter again. "To his 'male heir.'"

"If Margot were to have a son, that child would be the heir. And Margot, as his mother, would be in control of the Verger estate until he came of age." 

Will nodded. 

"You would give her that child." Hannibal did his best to keep his possessive side in check, but even he heard it slip into his words. 

"Sperm donor. Nothing more." Will's eyes finally met Hannibal's. "But I wouldn't unless it was something you were all right with." 

"I'm not the sharing kind." Hannibal returned to the meal prep. 

Will chuckled. "You already do share me. With my mother. With Abigail." He watched out of the corner of his eye as Will walked around the counter to his side. "But you haven't even heard the rest of my proposition." Will cocked his head at Hannibal for a second. "I also thought I'd introduce Margot and Alana."

He let his annoyance slip into his expression, though it wasn't at Will's idea to help his friend have a child. It was because he knew that Will could likely talk him into and out of anything. He continued his work, not answering. But when he moved to put the food in the oven, Will's arms wrapped around him, pinning him in place. He was forced to look up into those ocean-eyes and he was lost. Whatever Will wanted, he would give him. He would give him the world if he asked for it. Part of him resented the fact that there would be some piece of Will that belonged to someone else. There would be a child out there with Will's curls and his eyes and that child wouldn't be Hannibal's. He set the food down, leaning into Will as the other pulled him close. 

"You are an incubus, my love. Silver-tongued seducer." He sighed. "Whatever you ask of me, if it within my power, I will give it to you." 

"What if," Will leaned forward, his lips next to Hannibal's ear. "I asked you to help."


	22. Chapter 22

When Hannibal awoke, Will was plastered against him, his body half over Hannibal's. Will's face was pillowed on his chest with his hand gripping Hannibal's bicep. He could easily have slipped out from under the other without jostling him but he didn't want to. He couldn't count the number of lovers he had left to sleep in the bed alone after he woke in the morning, but Will was never among them. He was perfectly content to stay wrapped in other's arms, used a pillow as Will so chose. He could have stayed for an eternity. His patients be damned. The world be damned. All he wanted was Will Graham. 

He managed to bring his hand upward just enough to begin carding his fingers through Will's curls. Will shifted slightly on his chest, his body moving to follow Hannibal's movements, but otherwise, his breathing was still as deep as it had been when Hannibal woke. For the last week, Will and Hannibal had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Freddie Lounds's body was discovered and her identity confirmed. The latest press release attributed her death to the Chesapeake Ripper. Will had consulted on only one case since Freddie's body was found, but it appeared the FBI and Jack Crawford were keeping him at an arm's length. 

Abigail was still doing well in her schooling and she and Will's mother seemed to have hit it off quite well. Will had practically moved into his house over the course of the week, given that Hannibal couldn't remember one morning in which he didn't wake up wrapped in Will's arms. Winter had started giving way to spring and with it came the rains. It was raining now, the raindrops pattering against Hannibal's window. He traced patterns over his lover's back with his other hand, listening to the sound of his breathing and the rain as it fell. 

He didn't know how long he waited for Will to wake, though he could have waited an eternity and he would have been perfectly content to stay where he was. His first appointment for the day was not until later and he had always been an early riser. Eventually, though, Will shifted in his arms, humming softly.

"Don't stop." His voice was thick with sleep. He continued his movements as bidden, stroking over Will's body. 

His hands began to drift lower, one hand moving down to the small of his back and the other pressing over Will's lips. Will followed them, kissing his fingers and then up his hand and arm. 

"Someone's frisky this morning," Hannibal commented idly as Will threw his body over Hannibal's continuing to kiss up his arm. 

Will only hummed in response as his lower body ground down and Hannibal felt his erection brush against his thigh. He pulled Will upward, making their mouths collide in a harsh kiss. Their kisses devolved into teeth and tongue, Will's more awake mind leading to harsher demands from his body. Hannibal was more than happy to oblige. Will's harsh kisses were countered by his gentle petting, his hands roaming over Hannibal's body. 

"God you're beautiful," Will whispered, turning his attention from Hannibal's lips to his throat. "What did I ever do without you?" 

Will's teeth sank into Hannibal's throat following his question, his body grinding downward at that moment as well. A jolt of pleasure rocked through Hannibal's body while his mind raced, wondering what he had done before Will. 

Will fumbled for the lube, pulling it onto the bed while his lips returned to Hannibal's once more. He fisted one hand in Will's curls while the other trailed down his body, feeling goosebumps in his wake. He had never met someone with the same appetite as him until Will, and that appetite seemed to extend into most things, including the bedroom. He was equally as hard as Will now, their bodies brushing against each other's. Will seemed content to stay as he was, kissing Hannibal, while he settled himself between his thighs. The other pulled away for a second to grab the lube once more and slick up his fingers before his hand moved down Hannibal's body.

He adjusted himself, pulling one leg around the other's waist so he had better access. Will returned to pillaging his mouth, their tongues tangling while he pushed a wet finger inside Hannibal. He groaned slightly and the sound seemed to entice Will more. He pushed another finger into him and after a long moment a third. However wound up Will was, it seemed Hannibal was right there with him as he ground down on the other's hand, his body begging for what his occupied mouth couldn't. Will bent his fingers slightly, finding Hannibal's prostate with ease and he moaned into the other's waiting mouth. 

Will didn't make him wait for long before replacing his fingers with something larger. Hannibal's head fell back as Will pushed into him completely the two of them taking a second to adjust before Will began thrusting. He wrapped his arms around Hannibal's body, keep him trapped against the bed while Hannibal's other hand pressed against his lower back, encouraging every brutal thrust Will rewarded him with. The bed squeaked slightly under them as Will continued his punishing thrusts into Hannibal's body. He groaned arching up into his lover and wrapping his legs around him as well. 

Will's breath was coming as pants against his mouth, the two of them no longer truly kissing but rather sharing breath between them. 

Even Will's morning breath was beautiful to him as their bodies moved together. 

His moans verged on whines and he found himself thinking that there was no one else he would have allowed himself to be as vulnerable with. There was no one else who's loving monster could gaze at him as Will's did now that his own monster loved in return. No one managed to breach the man under the monster and love him so completely. And there was no one he loved as completely as Will. 

He came after a particularly brutal thrust against his prostate and Will came only seconds later, moaning as Hannibal's body tightened around him. 

The other immediately buried his face in Hannibal's neck, purring like a contented house cat. He pulled from him, both of them groaning at the departure, but neither let go. He peppered kisses against curly hair, feeling Will bury himself more in Hannibal's grasp. 

"Will," He said after a moment, as one of Will's hands began carding through the hair on his chest?

"Hmm?" Will answered, his voice low as though he could easily fall back asleep. 

"Will," Hannibal tried again, trying to bring his attention to him.

Will shifted himself, moving to lie on Hannibal's chest and sighed. "Yes, Hannibal?" 

He shifted himself slightly, reaching for the bedside table and pulling out a box. It was likely premature in their relationship, but neither of them was the kind to take things slow. Both had jumped into it with both eyes open, and now all he wanted was more. 

"Look at me, my love." 

Will shifted, turning himself so he was still over Hannibal's body, but sitting up slightly to look at his face. He opened the box, offering it to Will next to them. Will turned slowly to look at it, noticing the gleaming silver band in the morning sun. 

"I'd kneel but," He glanced at Will's body still pinning him to the bed. "Marry me." 

"Hannibal," Will breathed, shifting slightly to reach for the box. Then his hand stopped in mid-air before he turned to look at him once more. "Are you certain?" 

He laughed slightly before shifting them to sit upright. It was easy for him to rearrange Will so his back was to Hannibal's chest and the box in his hands. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't." 

It was then that Will laughed, loudly and clearly like a bell. He set the box down next to him and half fell off the bed, his legs still draped over Hannibal's as he rummaged through something on the floor. He pulled himself back up in a display that emphasized his muscles and Hannibal was nearly salivating. The other shifted in the bed once more, this time straddling Hannibal's naked legs and opening another box between them. 

"So am I." 

Hannibal's face hurt because of the grin that broke out across it. 

It was not their smoothest moments as both fumbled to pull the rings free from the boxes and offer them to each other, both sliding them on each other's fingers like they were made for each other. 

Hannibal nearly attacked Will in another kiss, pinning him to the bed and ignoring the mess from their earlier fun. Their bodies ground together and Hannibal was all too aware of his hardening cock.

Will hummed between kisses. "Someone's frisky this morning." He quoted, biting at Hannibal's lips.

"I could do this for eternity and never be satiated when it comes to you, my love."

Will pulled him into another crushing kiss. "Me too."

* * *

Jack was all but certain that Hannibal Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper. He didn't have evidence, didn't have any proof. He didn't have anything really beyond the words of Freddie Lounds and her now charred corpse. But everything within him told him that Hannibal Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper. And that just made everything within him ache. It was he who pushed Will Graham into Hannibal's grasp. And the two of them had fallen into a more than intimate relationship if Freddie's pictures and article were anything to go by. That, along with the death of someone who Jack had found once had romantic feelings for Will, was enough to push him in the direction of Hannibal Lecter.

And then Freddie's corpse was found.

Jack had interviewed several people about Hannibal Lecter, but there was never anyone he could find who would say anything bad about him. Everyone seemed to love him and those who didn't still didn't have a harsh word to say in the doctor's direction. Even Hannibal's own psychiatrist and colleague were vague when it came to Hannibal's character and that just served to frustrate Jack more. 

He and the Ripper had been playing the same game, doing the same dance, for two years. The Ripper had wreaked havoc throughout the Baltimore area. Then he had seemingly kidnapped Miriam Lass and vanished. Two years later, with Will on the case, the Ripper seemed to be back out in the open leaving first a piece of Miriam Lass and then the rest of her and surrounded by bodies. Hannibal Lecter had a surgical past, he was well known enough that he could have met any of the victims. Hell, one of Hannibal's patients in his emergency room days was a Ripper victim. It all added up, but Jack didn't have a shred of proof for it.

More than that, he found he was incredibly terrified for Will's safety. How his best profiler didn't know that he was currently in bed with the Ripper, Jack didn't know. Or perhaps the Ripper had done something similar to what he had with Miriam Lass. She still couldn't remember anything, even when her arm was taken. All she knew were periods of darkness, a flashing light, and two people pulling her from a hole in the ground. Her memory over two years was spotty at best and if Will was romantically involved with the Ripper, there was no telling what could be done to him. 

Jack debated for days about what to do when it came to the Ripper and Hannibal Lecter. 

Ultimately, he decided after one very long day.

Will hadn't been in the office as much lately since he wasn't consulting on the Ripper cases anymore. That day, however, he had come by and Jack noticed a rather large bruise on his neck. It easily could have been contributed to a hickey, but Jack found himself fearing the worst. His mind had gone to all the worst places as he tried to reason why the Ripper took surgical trophies and eventually, he seemed to have settled on cannibalism. Even Freddie Lounds was missing pieces. And his mind only saw the worst with the possibility of a cannibal at Will's neck.

He left before Will did, determined to confront Hannibal before Will ever had the chance to return to him.

He would understand eventually that it was for his own good. He might be hurt now, but knowing that Hannibal was the Ripper would be enough to make him see reason. Or so Jack hoped anyway.

The drive to Hannibal's house took forever and he found himself incredibly lucky to have arrived there before the man. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for.

He was certain that if he took the meat from the freezer to the lab, the results would show it was human. He didn't have his chance to make it that far though, as behind him the door opened.

"Hello, Jack." Hannibal greeted behind him. 

He turned slowly, meeting the calm gaze of Hannibal Lecter. The cool look in his eyes and the calmness of his face was enough to reassure Jack that his instinct was correct. 

Everything from there happened incredibly fast and yet slow at the exact same time. The door opened and shut behind someone else. Hannibal stood completely still, his neat suit not shifting with the tensing of his muscles that Jack could see. Will walked into the room, pausing in the doorway behind Hannibal. After a moment, he stepped forward and Jack moved to stop him.

"He's the Ripper, Will," Jack warned. 

Will paused for a moment, then stepped forward and pressed his lips against Hannibal's neck. Hannibal leaned against him, his eyes fluttering slightly at Will's touch. 

Jack swallowed thickly. 

Will knew.

Will _knew._

He muttered something in Hannibal's ear that Jack couldn't decipher, mostly because it was in French. Then he turned Hannibal's head slightly and Jack watched a rather tender kiss shared between them. Silver and gold bands glinted in the kitchen light, both on left ring fingers. 

And then all hell broke loose.

Jack and Hannibal lunged forward at the same time, bodies colliding. Will joined and it was a flurry of bodies and blood. He was certain his face contacted the steel door of the refrigerator before Will was hauling him upward. At some point, one of the glass cabinets was broken and the glass had shattered on the floor. He fought against Will's grasp as Hannibal stalked closer, looking more animal than man. He could see the Ripper who had been carefully hidden under nice suits.

Will grabbed a piece of the glass and jammed it forward. Jack's neck lit on fire, his hands automatically reaching for the piece.

"Don't take that out," Will breathed in his ear.

Will's weight vanished from behind him and he fell backward, watching Will beckon to Hannibal and the two of them run from the room.

* * *

It was raining against as it had been earlier that day. Will called for an ambulance for Jack before smashing his phone very deliberately on the road. He pulled off his jacket to give to Hannibal who tried to refuse it but he ended up taking it anyway. The two of them ventured down the street, trying to look as calm as they possibly could given that both were disheveled and Hannibal had a smear of blood on across his cheek. They reached the end of the street and Hannibal looked to a car, his hand tugging on Will's. 

"No." He pulled Hannibal back to him. "We can't be seen together. They'll be looking for both of us."

Hannibal's arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. "We can make it."

"Hannibal," He grasped the other's soaking face, seeing his amber eyes flash in the night. "I need you to trust me." 

"How will you leave the country?" 

"How will you?" 

Hannibal offered a crooked smile, making the rain drip from his lips. "I always have a plan."

"And you think I don't?"

They collided in a kiss, both of them tasting of rain and blood. "I'll find you, Hannibal." He reassured. Hannibal pulled away rather reluctantly. Will started to head in the opposite direction toward where he knew his mother's house was. 

"I'll find you."


	23. Chapter 23

Will went to his mother's house first. 

If she was surprised to see him drenched and his hands streaked with blood, she didn't say anything. Will took the stairs two at a time to go to his room. His mother waited long enough for him to shower and put on his pants before bursting into the room behind him. She rolled a suitcase with her and settled it in front of the bed as Will buttoned his shirt. She sat carefully on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other under her long emerald green skirt. Her sky-colored eyes watched him as he toweled off his hair and then finished with the top buttons on his shirt.

"What's that?" He asked, nodding toward the bag, though he already had some idea. 

"Passport, money, clothes."

"You were prepared." He folded the towel and placed it on the rack before returning to the room to pull his socks on.

"I always knew a day like this would come." She rested her hands on her leg. "I am your mother, Will. It is my job to take care of you. And if that means hustling you out of the country when you need it, I would be prepared."

"How long?" He asked, pulling on his shoes.

"Since your 20th birthday. I kept the passport up to date. You should have no problems using it to leave the country."

"Will you come with me?" He stood, pulling on the suit jacket he had laid out before. 

She smiled sadly and stood, making certain she was in front of him. She grasped his face between her hands and ran her thumb over his cheekbone. "I wish I could my darling. You were smart to make certain you and Hannibal weren't traveling together." Will opened his mouth to explain but she silenced him. "It's better that I do not know." Her hands trailed down to his shoulders, brushing off the jacket. "As it is if I disappear when you do, it will only cast more suspicion on you. I can stall for a time, and join you later." He could see the tears building in her eyes. "I will also be here to shield Abigail from any further speculation." Will nodded before pulling her against him in a hug. 

They stood like that for a long moment, in silence. Then she pulled away and clasped his hands between her own.

"Now, my darling, I've already booked you a flight. You must be going."

He nodded, looking down at the readymade suitcase. 

"Go, my darling." She urged. "I'll see you again."

"Thank you, Mother." He said in French. 

Will made only one stop before the airport. The rain had stopped by the time he left his mother's house, making his next stop easier. When he arrived, the news was devoid of pictures of him and Hannibal, though he knew that wouldn't be for long. The drive was grueling given that he left Baltimore to drive to another airport. Part of him hoped Hannibal had the same idea, but he didn't see him at the airport nor on the boarding for the flight. Will was in first class, sitting comfortably on the way to Zurich. It was a rather roundabout way to make it to his ultimate destination, but he and his mother thought alike. He would drive or bounce from flight to flight once he arrived. It would make him harder to find.

Jack was a smart man, and if he followed Will's advice, he would live. Jack would know that eventually, Will would make his way to Paris where his mother was born. And he would make his way there eventually. But his flight out of the US didn't take him directly to Paris, and he hoped that would be enough to throw the FBI off the scent for a moment. He knew at some point, Hannibal would want to return to Florence but if they were anything alike, they would start their new journeys in Paris. 

For the first hour on the flight, Will thought about all the loose ends he left. And he thought about his dogs. Maybe he could send for Winston somehow. His mother would take care of the dogs, but ultimately she would find them good homes. He would have to tell her to keep Winston somehow. Margot wouldn't say anything and soon enough Mason Verger would be out of the picture. Alana didn't know anything and if she did, he doubted she would say anything due to his subtle maneuvering of Alana and Margot together. His mother, of course, wouldn't say anything, and neither would Abigail. He was glad for his foresight of bringing his mother and Abigail together as they would take care of each other until they could make their way to him. By then, he hoped to have set up another life. His mother wasn't wanting, and her coming home would give her access to even more funds she hadn't had over the years. She had left them on purpose and Will suspected in his later years that she had decided to keep them that way for a reason. 

He looked down at the silver band on his hand, running his thumb over it.

He wondered where Hannibal was, if he had made it out or if he was still running around in the US. 

Will's mind then drifted to Jack. He would live. And alive, he would never stop following Will. He had seen the look on Jack's face when Will entered and even when he kissed Hannibal. Jack thought he was being manipulated. He sighed to himself. 

The next few hours of his flight, he slept, though not well. 

When he finally arrived, he put on his glasses, hiding behind them as he had for years. They were a part of his mask, and the reason why the endeavors he took on his own would never be discovered. It didn't have to be this way. He could have let Hannibal and Jack attack each other. Hannibal would have won and Will wouldn't have been considered a suspect. It might have taken some time for him to leave the country, but eventually, he could have left knowing he could come back at some point. The only crimes that could possibly be linked back to Will were those he committed under the guise of the Chesapeake Ripper. The rest of his body of work would never be discovered. 

Yet it was oddly freeing knowing that he didn't have to wear the mask anymore. His mother knew him, Abigail knew him, Margot knew him, and Hannibal. Hannibal had seen inside him and buried himself there. He smiled to himself as he rented a car. 

He was free.

And now to find Hannibal.

* * *

> **The Last Known Words of Freddie Lounds**
> 
> _Readers, as many of you know, we here at Tattlecrime recently lost one of our own. Freddie Lounds was an eccentric and charismatic personality. Her legacy will live on in the writing she left and that which she managed to unearth. After her death, Tattlecrime fell to me to continue her work. As a result, I have decided to share the last article Freddie was working on before her untimely death. Take care readers in knowing that she will live on in our hearts and minds and that Tattlecrime will continue her legacy._
> 
> _-Frederic Lounds, Cousin of Fredrica Lounds_
> 
> **Murder Husbands**
> 
> _Dear readers, over the last few months we have seen a dramatic increase in brutal and artistic murders owed to the Chesapeake Ripper. I have shared with you my theory that in fact, Will Graham an FBI profiler and Hannibal Lecter an FBI consultant and psychiatrist, are the Chesapeake Ripper. This theory has developed after seeing the developing romantic relationship between Graham and Lecter and the series of increasingly personal murders. I originally theorized that the lovers were pitted against the Rippers, another pair of lovers._
> 
> _However, readers, I am inclined to believe that Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter have a much darker shared persona. Therefore readers, it is only accurate to call them what they are, Murder Husbands._
> 
> _I am leaving this particular entry open, as I will be continuing to update this story as it develops._

* * *

> **Death of Minnesota Shrike's Daughter**
> 
> _The remains of 17-year-old Abigail Hobbs were found last night. Hobbs's body was discovered following the attempted murder of the head of the Behavioral Science Unit at the FBI, Jack Crawford who was attacked by Hobbs's guardians Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. Hobbs's body was found by joggers in the early hours of the morning. The body was mangled beyond visual identification, but dental records confirmed Hobbs's identity. Hobbs was a person of interest in her father's series of murders. Garrett Jacob Hobbs, dubbed the Minnesota Shrike, was found responsible for the deaths of eight missing girls throughout Minnesota. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter then became guardians of the girl after her father's death at the hands of Will Graham. Later, Graham and Lecter were implicated in the Chesapeake Ripper case._
> 
> _No one has been able to reach Graham's mother, Frances DuBois, for comment._
> 
> _The FBI are asking the public for any information on Graham and Lecter. The public is warned not to approach but to contact the FBI immediately on sighting. Graham and Lecter are considered extremely dangerous._
> 
> _A funeral will be held for Abigail Hobbs on Saturday._

* * *

Will stared up at Notre Dame. The drive had been taxing and given all the random stops and twists and turns he made, it took him a month to finally arrive in Paris. And it had been worth the wait. He had only been there for two days — though his first day had been spent asleep — but he was completely entranced by the city. He imagined his mother walking these streets when she was younger, her dark hair bouncing and sky-colored eyes gleaming. 

He had yet to see Hannibal and that was a special kind of torture. He had kept an eye on the news as he traveled his twisting and winding road to his next destination — Paris was only a stop on a much grander tour — but he had seen plenty. As he suspected, Will and Hannibal were both placed on wanted and no-fly lists. Jack had lived also as Will suspected. Two days prior, Mason Verger was declared missing by his sister. In other unrelated news, Margot Verger was expecting a boy. 

Will shoved his hands into his pockets as he continued to look upward. He thought about taking a tour of the building, but something compelled him to stay put. 

He figured it out what that was soon as others stepped up on both sides of them. He barely had time to bend his arms slightly before others were threaded through them on either side. he immediately recognized his mother's grasp on his left side. He caught a glimpse of straight brown hair on his right and immediately, his grip tightened. 

"I heard you were dead," He said quietly. 

"Abigail Hobbs is dead." She confirmed at his side. "But Abigail Graham, however." 

Will smirked. 

"Have you see Hannibal yet?" 

"Not yet." He finally dragged his gaze away from the building. "But he's here." He turned to look at the two of them. "Would you care to join me for lunch?"

Abigail grinned. "I'm starving." 

Lunch passed quickly with lots of conversation to fill the time. Abigail filled Will in on her and his mother's plan to fake her death. Without Will and Hannibal there to steer focus away from Abigail, Jack became more determined in his pursuit of Abigail. He now not only believed she was involved in her father's crimes but also those of Will and Hannibal as well. To an extent, he was correct but only Will had ever employed Abigail's help and that was for the retrieval of Miriam Lass. Margot seemed to be developing more of a relationship with Alana and was doing well with her pregnancy. She sent along her well wishes with Will's mother. 

He assumed that the next time he saw her, she would be carrying a child on her hip. She would be a good mother and now she was free of her brother. 

His mother told him that there were no new leads on Mason's whereabouts and that if there was still no sign of him in six months, the Verger fortune would be handed over to Margot to keep for her child until he was of age. 

During their lunch, Will caught sight of a motorcyclist nearby. The driver made no move to leave the motorcycle, only leaning on it as Will, his mother, and Abigail finished their meals. After they were done, his mother offered to show Will and Abigail the city, but he had other plans on his mind. Abigail and his mother disappeared into a taxi after giving him the name of their hotel. Will waved as they drove away and then ventured into a nearby hidden alley between buildings.

He pretended to busy himself with his phone as another stalked up behind him. Excitement pounded through his veins. The other crept closer. Will couldn't hear them, couldn't see them with his back turned, but he knew exactly where the other was and he knew the moment they reached for him. He spun, grabbing the hand and its owner, pinning him to the wall. 

Hannibal's amber eyes were gleaming with pride and love as Will let up the pressure of his forearm on the other's throat for a moment.

"I've missed you," He purred and Will dropped his arm. 

The two of them collided, intense kisses shared between them as Will used his body to pin Hannibal against the wall. Hannibal's hand fisted in his shirt before he flipped them, pinning Will against the wall instead. His kisses trailed down Will's neck to his throat before he pulled back slightly, both of them panting.

"Want a ride?" Hannibal asked, his voice filled with mischief and the promise of more to come.

"Oh god yes."

* * *

**One Year Later**

"Dr. Fell," A voice greeted, the accent thick. Hannibal raised his head meeting the eyes of one Rinaldo Pazzi. He had met Pazzi before as a young man when he first ventured into Florence. Pazzi had accused him, correctly, of being Il Mostro di Firenze. Much like himself, Pazzi was older now, though the years had worn on Pazzi more than he. Pazzi stepped forward after Hannibal's latest lecture while the rest of the room cleared behind him.

Hannibal plastered a smile on his face, making certain the flash of irritation that flew through his mind didn't make its way into his eyes.

Pazzi had been present at two of his lectures previously, though he never approached him.

Until now.

They exchanged small talk as Hannibal packed up the few notes he had for the lecture. Behind him, another door opened from an adjoining room. Footsteps echoed over throughout the room as another joined them, stepping up to Hannibal's side. He didn't need to look to know it was Will. Pazzi looked back and forth between them before mentioning something about an ancestor of his. It was a ploy to find his way back around to Hannibal, to keep him under a watchful eye. Will's hand moved to his, his fingers tracing over the back of Hannibal's hand while the listened to the Inspector speak. 

Eventually, he gave his goodbye and Hannibal turned to Will the moment the door shut.

"You are incredibly distracting." 

Will's ocean-colored eyes sparkled. He stepped closer, his body only a breath away from Hannibal's.

"And I have to listen to you wax poetically in Latin for an hour without being able to see you." His fingers ran down the lapels of Hannibal's suit jacket. "It seems you are equally as distracting." His hands suddenly fisted in the fabric, pulling Hannibal closer until their bodies touched. Excitement ran through him like a freight train. "What's to be done about that?" 

They left the building hand in hand with Will's unspoken promise lingering in his mind. At Will's behest, he kept the motorcycle and it was that which he had chosen to use to take them to work this morning. And that which would take them home. Will situated himself, sliding behind Hannibal and pressing their bodies together. His arms wrapped around Hannibal's waist, holding him tightly. Hannibal started the motorcycle and between that and his helmet, the world around him was dulled to his ears. 

But not his eyes.

He turned slightly, seeing the distinct form of Jack Crawford in the distance, conversing lowly with Rinaldo Pazzi. 

He smirked to himself. At Will's request, Jack was allowed to live. But Pazzi would be a problem.

One he couldn't wait to handle with Will by his side. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://neurowriter14.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/NWriter14)


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